


Harry Dresden Gets All the Best Adventures

by mitsukai613



Category: The Dresden Files - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, M/M, Temporary gender switch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-14
Updated: 2013-10-08
Packaged: 2017-12-26 12:46:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 42,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/966084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mitsukai613/pseuds/mitsukai613
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Harry stops Mab from fully enslaving Bob once more, the magical backlash causes reality to go a little wonky, and Mab to get more than a little upset at Harry. In order to protect him, Lea comes and spirits him away to her gardens, after, of course, turning him into a woman to further shield him from Mab's view. The backlash in the real world goes even farther, though, and starts causing all of Marcone's enemies to hulk out and attempt hostile takeovers in every way they possibly can. When they meet the pretty girl their boss seems to have fallen for, well, obviously she needs to get taken out. They really hope she stops starting fires, though. Or at least they wish they knew where she was hiding the damned matches.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ghostdreaming](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=ghostdreaming).



> Well, ghostdreaming, here you are! The first chapter of your request, and I hope you enjoy it! If not, I can try to change it or abandon it at your will. Anything you'd like to happen or to be changed, let me know, and it shall be done to the best of my ability!

                I hadn’t known that Bob could scream until that night. I’d known he could be hurt, yeah, but I didn’t know he could actually feel it, express it. I hadn’t known. If I had… I… what would I have done? I don’t know. Something, everything. I’d have tried to keep him safer, of course, kept him closer to me, but now it was too late, now he was just another being I loved that got hurt because I was careless and stupid. His screaming, terrified and loud and heart wrenching, was what woke me up and made me run downstairs into my subbasement. An explosion of light, bright orange tinted with blue and red and green and a shocking violet I recognized from the few Winter spells I’d seen performed. I could admit some fear to that, but Bob was still screaming, louder now, until his voice shattered into a million crying pieces. I heard him begging. Bob doesn’t beg, ever. I swallowed and pressed forward through the light, even though it burned my skin and made my eyes ache. I bumped into something solid that felt human, but I knew it wasn’t. The light faded, and I saw her, Queen Mab, her eyes too bright and too dangerous and maybe a little more insane than usual. Orange mist swirled in front of her, twisting into tight, spiraling knots. Her hands were curled into claws, and her dress was a little torn at the hem. Her face was still fairy-perfect. I felt a chill unlike any other, one that stabbed through my chest and burrowed into my heart, too deep, too much. Hell’s Bells, I wanted to be sick.

                “Was it too loud, Harry dear? I’m sorry. Still, I must ask you, how did you ever let it get so free? I bound it ever so tightly, yet now those bonds are all but nonexistent. It’s been causing trouble for me again, you know, wandering through my realms. I’ll allow you to keep it, of course, but please do try not to allow it to become this way again.” Oh. Oh, hell. Stars. Bob had told me… he’d told me that Mab hated him, that Mab had been the one to bind him. He’d told me. I’d sent him to Winter anyway, for information. My fault. My fault. My fault. I had to… what could I do? She was the Winter Queen. What could I do? Her hands were working, twisting Bob around tightly, until the mist that made him up hardly even moved.

                “Help, please. Don’t. I won’t do anything. Help, I want to stay loose, please, don’t, don’t, I won’t go to Winter again, please, it hurts.” There was no inflection to his words, no emotion. I could feel the life being sucked out of him more and more with every passing second. I thought fast. No blasting rod, no staff, but Bob was in danger, Mab was hurting him, and hurting my friends isn’t allowed.

                “Pyrofuego!” I screamed it, passion and fear and rage and a hundred other things, including my Soulfire, poured out with it. The plume of flame was as thick as my arm, and fanned out wide without a focus to direct it. It struck Mab’s frozen working hard, and I saw them warring with one another. I forced more will through it, and kept the fire going. Some of my shelves were melting, and Bob’s books had been incinerated. My more flammable ingredients were already long-gone too, and they were being quickly joined by the others. I felt myself sweating. I wondered if I’d damage Bob’s skull. I pressed harder, harder, harder, forcing more and more of myself through, into the flame. The Soulfire was eating away at me, I knew it was; I could feel it draining me. I wasn’t made of soul, like the angels were. I was human. My soul was small and dirty and it couldn’t take this, but it was Bob, my best friend, the only one I’d had for so, so long, and I couldn’t let him get turned into that same mindless slave he used to be. I’d die myself before that happened. I just hadn’t realized how much soul-death hurt, when it was starting to become too much.

                The flames finally touched Mab. I don’t know how, but they touched her. Her hands ceased their dance, and the tight tangles that had been growing ever, ever tighter loosened. There was another bright flash of light, this one in all colors at once, so it just looked white. There was a loud noise from somewhere far away, but that didn’t matter at all, not really, because I might’ve just made everything worse. Bob fled back into his skull. Mab screamed her rage, and I felt my ears protest. Her eyes were wide and wild, monstrous on an angel face that had contorted with her anger. She wasn’t breathing. I guessed fairies didn’t have to. I was shaking with my weakness, and she stepped closer to me. I’d burned her neck. Oh, Stones. I’d burned the Winter Queen. I couldn’t move. My legs felt like jelly. Her fingers, thin and beautiful and deadly, caressed my cheek. Her teeth were unnaturally sharp in this light, the light of my fire that still burned feebly behind her.

                “Why, my pet, would you do that?” A crushing weight appeared on my chest until I couldn’t breathe or speak or do anything at all, actually. I was afraid. I hated being afraid. “Do you know what kind of backlash you’ll have caused, Harry? What sort of horrors you’ll have unleashed? My magic is not to be trifled with, love, and you’ve _broken_ it. You may have broken your reality along with it, dear, all for your servant, you foolish, foolish thing.” The pressure was released for a second, and I assumed she wanted a reply. Blue blood was leaking from the burn I’d dealt her, but the skin was knitting itself back together before my eyes. 

                “Not… not my servant. Bob. My friend. You don’t hurt my… my friends. Not my friends.” She sneered, and once more her face was twisted in a way that should have made her ugly. Instead it simply brought attention to the fact that she was lovely, but a sharp, dangerous sort of lovely, like a goddess of war and death and pain. That’s what she was, too, at least in some ways. She was worshiped by many, by all the Winter fay and a few Pagan mortals, and she enjoyed inflicting pain. Suffering and despair made her happy. She was scary in the stories, and she was made even more so by the simple fact that she was real.

                “Bob? No wonder it has nearly shattered its bonds. You’ve given him a name, you idiot boy. Stupid, stupid mortal. Dooming this entire plane for a spirit, a worthless, disobedient spirit. You will be punished for this, child, punished greatly. If you had thought you’d gained my ire before, you’ve certainly gotten it now. I’ll not do it now, though, my dear. No, no, I’ll make you wait. And you’ll wait and you’ll wait for my punishment, wait for the horror, and your mind will supply all the awful things I could do to you, to those mortals of yours. I think I’ll first punish you with what you yourself have done though, poor boy. Why don’t you look outside?” She faded before I could reply. I collapsed onto the floor. I hurt. I couldn’t move. Her power had been all that was holding me up. I was drained, down to the very last dredges. I could feel the hollow space where I’d even been working into my personal core of magic. I few more moments and I’d have been casting my death curse. I lay there on the floor, shaking, for at least ten minutes, dwelling on what Mab had said. Punishment. Outside. My head was swimming, so I shut my eyes. My lab was destroyed anyway, so it wasn’t like there was all that much to look at. Even Little Chicago had gotten a little gooey in places. I’d have to fix it. I’d have to… oh, Stars. I was nauseous. I tried to twitch my fingers, but still couldn’t.

                “Boss? Harry? Harry, are you okay? Harry, please, don’t, not now,” I heard Bob mumbling. I tried to smile, but couldn’t manage that either. I could hardly force out a slurred sentence, but I eventually managed it.

                “’M ‘kay, Bob. ‘M fine. ‘S’all good. Since yer ‘kay. Can’t move, though. Need ta… call someone. Need ta check outside. Can you… uh, Bob, can you possess me and make me walk? I need… call. Gotta call. Need ta stand up first. Can’t do it. Help me?” I could feel Bob’s indecision, for a second, but then I felt the warmth of him, like candle flame, against my cheek. I gasped when he slid into my brain, and then I felt myself get up and shamble up the stairs like a zombie. The upstairs of my house was trashed, completely and totally. My couch was in tatters, my bookshelves overturned, my coffee table split in two, even my bedroom door had been ripped off its hinges. Ash from my fireplace coated the rugs in a thick, grungy layer. The Brownies would hate me, in the morning. I coughed, and it felt too wet. The residual magic up here was so strong it was like taking a hundred punches to the gut, continually, by the World Heavyweight Boxing Champion of the World. Bob forced me over to the door, and my hand lifted without my knowledge or will to grab the door and jerk it open, even though it was more stuck than usual thanks to the magical battering it had taken. The changes outside weren’t noticeable, at first, but as soon as I saw them, I couldn’t ignore them.

                The black sky overhead was full of holes; darker spaces that I knew led right to the Nevernever. The sky, I knew, was a big part of the barrier between the two worlds. Holes weren’t a good thing. Anytime I looked at one of the holes closely, I could see bright, Technicolor streams of magic pour out, accompanied by black, scrabbling hands. The barrier had been weakened intensely, then, if even the weaklings were getting purchase on this side. They could wreak havoc on this world, I knew, because the people didn’t believe, meaning they couldn’t defend themselves. I was good, but certainly not good enough to take on the entire Nevernever. Already formless, black blobs wiggled and squirmed down streets and sidewalks, climbed up the walls, and clung to the windows until they were shadowy, goopy messes. As I thought, I could see some that they were conglomerating into something bigger, something I didn’t even want to imagine. Periodically, slits would open in random places and a few more of the blobs would fall out. I couldn’t help but imagine that those blobs were the barrier itself, that they were breaking apart, collapsing, that the more of them there were, the more monsters would find their way here.

                Stars and Stones, but Mab’s magic had wrecked this area. I wondered how far it extended, but knew it didn’t matter. If reality is weak in one place, it’s only a matter of time before it’s weak everywhere. I had to fix it, and I had to do it fast, but was it even possible?

                “You’ll need a big working,” I heard Bob say from somewhere deep inside my head. “Major big, bigger than anything else you’ve ever done, and at least five other wizards of your strength. It’s got to be perfect, too. Total meditative state for all of you, and every cleansing ritual you know how to do, plus a few you don’t. Mab’s one tough bitch.” I managed to snort. As if that wasn’t the understatement of the century.

                “At least you’re all right,” I thought, softly. Bob sighed.

                “You should’ve just let her do it.” I ignored him, and he helped me get back inside. He walked me to my bed and lay me down.

                “The Leansidhe. You need to try calling her, Harry, before this gets any worse. Mab could fix it, and the Leansidhe has sway. You need to call her.” I nodded.

                “Yeah. You should… you should probably get to bed. You’re probably still in a little pain, right? I can call her on my own.” I felt it as soon as Bob’s influence left, because any strength I may have felt in my extremities fled. The orange mist of his body drifted out and away, but not before he told me to be careful, and that he was sorry, and that he cared for me. I managed to get my lips up in a half-smile. “I’m a helluva lot more s’rry then you, Bob. Night, and I love you too.” He floated back to the subbasement, and I forced my lips to move just a little bit more. “Leansidhe. Leansidhe. Leansidhe.” I sent out the last effort of will I possibly could, and felt the call stretch away. A gorgeous woman appeared before me, one with flaming red hair and golden cat eyes. She painted her lips ruby today, an odd change from her normal lipstick. I wondered why I was focusing on that when obviously there were more important things going on.

                “You’ve upset her greatly, my godson. It is very dangerous for you, now. She will harm you. This world is weak now, child. Very weak. Her power was full of rage, this night, of resentment. You are in such danger, you silly, silly boy.” I tried to huff, but I only managed a dry, pathetic puff of air. “And you are weak as well, to match your mortal world. Why have you called me?”

                “Need… help. Talk to… to Mab. Get her to fix this.” Leansidhe shook her head.

                “I cannot. She is angry, godson. I shall not risk my own life to save your mortals.”

                “Give me a boost, then. Power me up, so I can fix it. I can… I can call the Council. We can fix it together if I’m at full strength.” She seemed a little distraught, or as distraught as a fairy can be. She settled a hand in my hair.

                “There is little I can do for you, my child. This reality will heal itself, eventually. I cannot promise that damage will not occur in the interim, but it will be healed. You, however, are drained deeply. I can give you enough to allow you to move again, but your soul… it must be given time to regrow on its own, or you shall most certainly die. And yet I know you will not allow yourself this rest here, godson.” I could see something in her eyes, a desire to help, but it worried me. Lea’s version of help wasn’t always helpful. In fact, sometimes it was downright detrimental. I opened my mouth to protest, but Lea settled a hand on my forehead. “Sleep, child. I’ll take care of you. Mab will not find you whilst you are in my care, and when you return to this world, it will be healed.” I fought it, but the pull was too strong. My mind was dragged under a deep, black sea, empty and fathomless and cold. The last thing I felt was Lea’s lips on my cheek, and a whispered word I didn’t at all understand.

* * *

 

                I woke up on a feather bed, feeling not quite sick just… wrong, somehow. I was dressed in something soft that had to be either silk or satin, meaning that there was no possible way it could be mine, especially since it felt like a dress that fell just to my knees. I was covered up to my neck in a heavy comforter that held head stickily to me. My head throbbed as I sat up, and the blanket pooled in my lap. Huh, this was weird. I didn’t remember my upper body feeling this heavy. I wondered if maybe Lea had put something there, so I glanced down, and saw two things that were most certainly not supposed to be there. Well, Hell’s fucking Stars and Stones goddamned Bells. Not this old song and dance again, Christ. This was not at all the first time Lea had pulled this trick. To be exact, it was the fifth. I stood up shakily and did my damndest to get myself balanced with my new center of gravity.

                I don’t think people get how much differently men and women have to hold themselves to walk properly, at least not until they either loose or gain something in the chest area. I mean, hell, I wasn’t even big-chested, as a girl, and it was weird. I stumbled over to a mirror to glance at myself, and saw what I expected; a face that was similar to mine, but not quite there. It was still long and more angular than not, but there was a softness to my jaw, now, an extra fullness to my lips, and a roundness to my eyes. I was pretty sure I looked like my mom, like this, or at least as nearly as I could guess, from the few blurry pictures and paintings that had existed of her. I figured I was what most guys, including myself, I guess, would describe as tomboyish. My hair was still the same, wavy and just brushing my shoulders, and the curves I gained were slight but there. I pursed my lips and stuck my tongue out at the reflection, recalling the first time Lea had pulled this stupid bullshit.

                I’d been eighteen, fresh of the train to Chicago, and she’d been pleased at my ascendance to the level of full-blown Wizard. It had been my birthday, and she appeared in my hotel room, called a truce to our never ending game of cat and mouse. She’d smiled at me, and touched my face, and then I’d been a woman. A six foot eight, stupid looking woman, just like now, but a woman nonetheless. I’d freaked out. I’d be freaking out now if I wasn’t so distressingly used to this. I’d kicked up a huge fit, actually, yelled and screamed and demanded she change me back. She’d called it a birthday gift and said I could go out and take my new body for a spin, and that I’d be turned back by morning. The fact that she thought a male would be attracted to me like this, and the fact that she thought I wanted to be a woman and have sex with a man for my birthday, were equal parts distressing and hilarious. I glanced down at the body that was mine and not, and poked my left breast. Jiggly. Just like old times. I shook my head in order to eliminate thoughts of groping myself, and moved to sit on the fluffy bed again. Places that shouldn’t be bouncing were bouncing. God… fuck. My legs sprawled out indecently, baring the panties I’d been put in. I knew that underneath I’d have vastly different equipment than I was used to. I thought maybe I should be a bit more worried than I was about Lea’s fascination with making me a woman.

                The second time this had happened, I’d been twenty. I was in my second year of apprenticeship with Nick, and it had been the day after I met Murphy. I was drained dry, totally without my magic, much like how I was now, and if Lea had been in a bad mood that day, she could’ve taken me. Instead, she’d been playful. She asked if I’d enjoyed my night on the town in a new skin, and I told her I’d stayed in. She told me that that wouldn’t do and changed me again. I immediately attempted to kill her. She made me play dress up and dragged me to a bar, wherein she threw me at every drunk male she could possibly find. All of them being far too drunk to realize that Harry Dresden as a woman equals just as unattractive as Harry Dresden as a man, my ass was groped approximately fifteen times. She tried to get me to go home with some guy, but I’d refused, and she’d pouted and brought me home. Once again, I changed back the next morning. I glanced down at my legs and noticed that they hadn’t changed, like, at all. They hadn’t the other times either. Was she trying to tell me I had a woman’s legs? Sadistic bitch. Of course, I could remember a stray comment from Anastasia, a while before, that she wasn’t sure which one of us had prettier legs. I’d ignored her. Sometimes I think maybe I should learn to listen a little better, but then I get distracted and remember that yelling and ignoring are super fun.

                The third time, I’d been twenty-six. I’d just finished up with my first case, and I’d thought I’d be done with her for a while. Instead, she appeared in my room at night, and did exactly what she’d done this time, except when I woke up then; I was sitting outside of a tall, nondescript building, which I assumed I was meant to enter. I then discovered it was a building wherein phone sex happened, and I’d been signed up for an interview. I only later discovered it was John Marcone’s phone sex operation, and became ridiculously thankful that I’d broken exactly three hundred and twenty-seven windows, forty-two and 1/3 desks, one ceiling, and half a floor in my haste to escape. I also broke my foot in that endeavor, but whatever. Minor, minor details. I scratched my jaw and felt a disturbing lack of stubble. Jesus. I want to be a man again. I might be used to this, but it sure as hell doesn’t mean I enjoy it. Stupid Lea. Stupid, stupid Lea. I finally bothered to look around the room and recognized it as the guest room in her cottage, the one with pale blue walls and thick, white carpeting, and white furniture, and a fire in the fireplace that burned blue 24/7. Yes, her cottage is big enough to have a guest room. Yes, her cottage is larger than three of my apartments put together. No, I don’t think it should still qualify as a cottage at this point.

                The fourth time Lea had made me a woman, I’d asked her to. Yeah, I know, weird, huh? Still, it was extenuating circumstances, by which I mean I had to sneak back into that phone sex office I destroyed in the aforementioned scenario, and they weren’t looking to hire men just then. Also, even if they were, there was no way in hell I was risking that getting back to Marcone. On that particular day, I discovered that a picture of my female self had made the rounds from that phone sex operation to every other phone sex operation in Chicago as a person to not be allowed a job, or even in the building, which was actually pretty impressive, now that I think about it. I think my male self is on a few of those lists too. Don’t ask, please. Just know that explosions and phone sex don’t mix, no matter how tired you may be. Friendly advice, from me to you. Anyway, I made absolutely no headway from that attempt, and ended up just breaking into the building once I was a man again. The next week, I received a phone call from Marcone, and he ranted at me about insurance premiums, and just how much it was going to cost to replace all those phones I’d sort of kind of fried a little bit. I hung up on him. I coughed softly, and felt things jiggling and shifting again. I stared down at the offending things upon my chest, and glared at them. They didn’t shrivel up and die like I was hoping, and the door opened on the other side of the room.

                Lea, Mouse and Mister at her heels, wandered inside, Mouse looking a little annoyed as Mister attempted valiantly to get her to pick him up. Mouse, who isn’t a huge traitor, came over to me and gently licked my fingers. I smiled and scrubbed his ears, to which he whimpered softly and dropped his head on my thigh.

                “Do I smell different like this, fur face? Sorry. Lea, what the hell are you doing?” She smiled sweetly, cocked her head innocently, her face flushed with happiness and her eyes far too bright to be reassuring.

                “What do you mean, dear? I am keeping you safe. In this form my Queen shall not recognize your presence, and you will be safe, most especially since you’re magic has been drained to nigh undetectable levels. So long as you are like this, she will be of the belief that you are my new mortal pet, chosen specifically for her similarity to my disobedient godson.” I glared.

                “And she’s totally not going to recognize my pets, Lea. You just wanted to make me a girl again.” Her laugh was high and pretty, like bells.

                “Your little beasts are easily hidden, child. Although, I will admit that I have something of an affinity for you in this shape. You remind me, quite pleasantly, of your mother when you’re like this. Now, do stand up. If you’re to play my pet then you must dress as such.” I shook my head.

                “Turn me back, Lea. I need to go back to the mortal world and get it fixed.” Her face, once soft and teasing, grew solid and statuesque.

                “No. Your realm will repair itself on its own time. You mustn’t involve yourself this time, my child.” She quirked a finger and I was forced up to my feet. Mouse huffed indignantly at his head being dislodged, and Lea snapped a finger. I was suddenly buck ass naked. Also, apparently that room was colder than I thought. Oopsies. I coughed and looked away embarrassedly, my face flaming bright red. “Don’t worry yourself. I am a handmaiden; I have seen such things since my appearance in this godforsaken world.” I glanced down at my own body, at the foreign curves and the foreign place between my legs, myself made not me. I was discomforted, obviously. You just never know how much you like your own skin until you’re in someone else’s, really. Lea stepped over to a large wardrobe and opened it carefully. From it she tugged a cream gown with matching feathers on the bust, and thinner, black ones around the middle. The skirt, too, was made of the cream feathers, and was ridiculously full. I attempted to run away. Lea held out a hand and I was suddenly forced to stay exactly where I was. Her sweet smile was full of shark teeth, and suddenly I was in the dress.

                The inside was a little scratchy against places where the skin was sensitive, and I could feel that I’d been put into a corset underneath, one that cut into my middle and curved it even more. My feet were adorned with a low heel that still made me stumble when I attempted to walk. Lea dragged me back over to the mirror and dropped me down, her fingers running through my tangled hair. Her fingers, quick and thin, her nails sharp, tugged and pulled it into something that might have been an actual style. Little wisps of it brushed the back of my neck delicately, and she hooked a diamond necklace around my throat. I supposed I should’ve just been glad she didn’t pierce my ears.

                “Lea, no,” I tried. She ignored me. “Lea!”

                “La,” she mumbled, and poked my nose softly. Mouse nosed the gown, and sneezed. Hell’s _Bells._ My dog was allergic to feathers, and I was a female bird. My life was finally fucking complete.

* * *

 

Marcone’s POV

                Something was wrong. I woke up in the middle of the night, sometime around two a.m., and I had no idea why, but something felt strange. There was an familiar tension in the air, one I’d long come to associate with Harry Dresden and his lovely magic, but something felt incorrect about it. There was something oily and cold about it, something evil. Something. Incorrect. Bad. Wrong. I forced myself up to my feet and stumbled out into the hallway. I yelled for Gard. She, who didn’t need sleep, came thumping up the hallway. She stopped as soon as she reached me, her body tight and hard-lined. Her eyes were solid blue chips, and perhaps, somewhere in there, I saw some worry.

                “Something has happened,” she said, certainty filling her every word. “Something horrible. The Winter Queen… this is her doing, her magic. Come. Outside, we must see what has happened.” She scarcely seemed to touch the floor as she ran outside, and I had to work to keep up with her. My mansion doors flew open, and outside, yes, something was wrong.

                It was too dark outside, no matter the hour. Not a single star was visible, nor was the moon. It was cold, and there was a strange something scattered about the grounds. I heard someone screaming, far away. I wondered if it was Harry and felt a pang of worry stab through my heart. The crack of gunshots tore through the evening’s silence. I felt far too tense, worried, and Gard took a deep breath.

                “Ms. Gard? What has happened? I’ll assume Harry has something to do with it?” She nodded, and her eyes closed delicately.

                “Yes, I think so. I feel his magic, tangled deeply within the Winter Queen’s. It is hers that has caused this, however. Still, for enough of his magic to be there for me to even feel, he will be weakened. I am unsure of what has happened, but Winter’s magic is rending reality as we know it. The backlash is angry, and it will make the people angry. It will be dangerous, for you.” I ran a hand harshly through my hair. Things were always dangerous for me, always. That was not what I was concerned about.  

                “What about Harry? Is he alright?” She stared off into the distance for a few more moments.

                “I am unsure. Again, he is certainly weak, after all this magic was thrown about. I’d be unsurprised, in fact, if he was suffering from a temporary paralysis. However, he was obviously in some sort of battle with the Queen, and while it seems he’s put up a large fight, he’ll have certainly lost. If she was angered enough… I do not have high hopes for his current condition, nor his ability to repair this mess. I will, of course, put in a few calls to get a group together in order to seal the holes to the Nevernever that are opening.” My fists clenched. Worry. I felt it deep and solid within me. Fear. Harry was important, he was my Wizard, he could not be hurt. I had to go help him.

                “I must go help him, Ms. Gard. He will be in the Nevernever, correct?” Gard’s eyebrows knitted together.

                “There is little you may do, just now, until we know more. I am certain that if Mab has taken him hostage, we will hear of it soon enough. Go, sleep. I will stay here and monitor the condition of this reality.” I had to listen to her, I supposed, for I couldn’t get to Harry without her anyway. For now, at least, it would be prudent to go by her rules, although I didn’t particularly want to. I went back to bed numbly, the greasy, shadowy magic pressing down on my chest, where instead there should have been light, fluttering warmth. God, but I hoped he was alright.

* * *

 

                The next morning, Gard, Hendricks and I climbed into one of my vehicles and began to drive towards Harry’s house. Dark patches were still present in the blue sky, and they were expanding. The meteorologists were calling it an atmospheric anomaly. Some areas were also reporting rains of frogs and cats and fish, which the meteorologists had decided to call a side effect of some recent storms, just as they had the first damned time. I wondered how many people on this earth knew that was all bullshit. I heard gunshots suddenly, and the car veered off the road. Someone had shot our tires. My head cracked against the window, and I climbed dizzily out of the car. Another vehicle pulled up beside us, and out of it climbed five men I recognized, some from a small group of men who’d long been hold outs of Vargassi’s reign. They smirked at me, their eyes bright with raging madness, and they shot at me. I dived away, yanking my own gun from my jacket whilst Gard and Hendricks removed their own and opened fire.

                The men were too good, far better than they should’ve been, dodging shots easily, making their own neat and clean. They’d never been this good before. They all yelled something about how Vargassi was coming back to power, that I should give in quietly and I might live. I just laughed at them, and kept up my fighting. I finally managed to land a hit on one of them, in his shoulder, but he only snarled and kept shooting, ignoring the blood and the gore dribbling down his arm from the wound. A bullet whizzed by my head. Where the hell were the cops when they’d actually be fucking useful? I shot twice more before I ducked behind the car door. One of the guys screamed as Hendricks shot him, and he went down. Gard caught the one I’d hit earlier on the thigh, and the gushing blood told me she’d cut the artery. He fell down shortly after, but the other man, the last one standing, was getting uncomfortably close to hitting all of us. He screamed suddenly, even though I hadn’t seen a bullet hit him, and he collapsed suddenly. I didn’t see any blood, so I stepped out from behind the car door carefully, cautious of a trap. He had a box cutter in his throat, when I got closer, and I saw at least a hundred tiny Fay leaping and jumping on him, tearing at his skin.

                “We claim freedom from thee, foul man-beast!” One of them bit the man. I managed a wince in sympathy, before I spoke.

                “Hello there,” I told them. They all gasped suddenly, and bowed.

                “Baron!” they screeched, voices high and tinny and sweet. Bright halos of light that blended strangely with the air, which did seem a bit brighter than usual, now that I was looking closely. They were squealing and squeaking and seemed to be fighting to get nearer to me. “We’ve killed them, for you, so that we might claim our freedom!” What?

                “You did not have freedom before?”

                “The man-beast held us as weapons! We killed him, for you, and so, are we free of him? May we do as we will with ourselves?” I stared.

                “Of course, I see no reason why not.” They cheered, and fluttered around me, holding hands and dancing. Some of them floated away immediately after, however, their faces looking lost. I recalled something Harry had once told me about their memory, that it wasn’t very good, often. Some of them, however, seemed perfectly capable of recalling why they were happy. Still… I supposed I could take advantage of this, a bit. Harry had also told me that the little Fay like this couldn’t be beaten, if one gave them a simple task they were capable of performing. “However, you must do something for me: find out where Harry Dresden is.” A murmur ran through them.

                “’Za Lord? The ‘Za Lord? General Toot-Toot will know!” Then they flew off. I supposed I could only hope that they’d return as I sat there on the side of the road, watching as Hendricks called for a new car. I stared up at the sky and watched it split, watched skeletal hands and long, whipcord tails spill out. I wondered how the weathermen would explain this. A random fish, already half-rotten, landed on my lap. I cursed and stared up and laughed, because I’d been hoping for a good week and by now if I didn’t laugh I was quite certain I’d go absolutely insane.

* * *

 

Harry’s POV

                “Damn it, no! I’m not going to have fucking brunch with you! Not in this at least!” I stared down at the feathery monstrosity I’d been forced into. Lea stared endlessly back at me, and I remembered that she didn’t have to blink, so a staring contest with her would be sort of pointless. Her red hair was piled atop her head, and she was decorated with emeralds to match her dress. She crossed her arms and pouted like a petulant child, before she grabbed me by the arm and put me in a chair. I tried to stand up, but there was suddenly a restraint on this chair, and moving was not a thing I could do. Of course. Why in the world would I expect anything less from my godmother? I sighed. She snickered, and took Mister up into her arms. The stupid cat even let her pet his belly. Once again, at least Mouse was still on my side, even if I did make him sneeze now.  

                “You know, dear, that is no way for a lady to talk.”

                “I’m no lady.” She smirked sharply, and waved a hand to coat the table in food.

                “Ah, but aren’t understatements so very much fun?” I snorted, and realized that yeah, I was maybe a little hungry. I popped a bite into my mouth and hoped I wasn’t suddenly Winter’s property. I probably was, though. Still, I was fucking hungry. We ate mostly in silence, because honestly, neither of us is all that great at polite, average conversation. The food was good, if sweet, and I was allowed to stand once my plate was cleaned. The whole table was gone with a snap of Lea’s fingers. “Good darling. Now, it is time for a party, you see, a garden party just outside. I promised my guests I’d have a swan dance,” she told me, fingers pressed under my chin. I can admit that I might have squeaked, maybe. Lea can be scary, okay? Especially when she’s talking about dancing swans with that look in her eye. I really wanted another dress. Oh, Christ. I never thought I’d say that, because it implies that the dress I’m currently in is inadequate, but another one would be perfectly fine. I decided to amend it to, I want pants. And a penis. Still, no one cares what I want, like, ever.

                “No.” She pouted. It’s really weird, when a fairy who is countless years old pouts at you. It kind of reminds me of how I feel when Ivy does it. I scratched my head.

                “Harry, love, you don’t have a choice. I’ll knock you out again if I have to.” I wind-milled my arms at her. She dodged. Now, this next part is a little hard to explain, and I want you to keep an open mind, okay? My godmother and I had a slap fight. A for real serious slap fight, but it was one with, like, blood and organs and stuff. A bad ass slap fight that I am worthy of. Also, I so let her win. I also let her pin my arms behind my back and wrestle me down onto the floor, where she did that sleepy thing again and I went bye-bye. You see, I desperately wanted a nap. That’s why I let her do all that, you know? Yeah. Anyone who is skeptical about that in any way, shape, or form can kindly go fuck themselves.

* * *

 

Murphy’s POV

                I woke up with a fucking fairy standing over my bed. That’s not a euphemism, by the way. There was an actual fairy standing over my bed, her arms crossed, her face pinched. She was staring at me. I tried to remember what I’d gone to bed in, but couldn’t. It’d been a busy couple of days, what with everyone deciding they wanted to commit violent crimes at exactly the same time for no conceivable reason. I’d been considering giving Harry a call, actually, to see if all this was somehow magic related. Or, you know, if it was related to the giant black holes in the sky and the random animal showers that he obviously had something to do with, because wasn’t that moron always involved? The fairy smiled at me.

                “Hello, Ms. Murphy. I understand you and my godson are ‘friends’?” My breath caught suddenly in my throat. Godson. Fairy godmother. Harry had one of those, and she was psycho loopy crazy, by all accounts. I was pretty sure I wanted her to be somewhere not my bedroom, from what Harry had always said. I chose my words carefully.

                “Yes, we are. Why?” She just kept up that unnerving smile.

                “There’s a bit of an issue, I’m afraid. He has just been being so very uncooperative, and I simply must have someone he trusts with us. You seem to be a proper, sufficiently mortal candidate who is capable of pulling his leash for me. You’ll be able to get the silly boy to listen, yes you will,” she said, seeming to be speaking mostly to herself, rather than to me. I stared. She grabbed my arm, and suddenly I wasn’t in my bedroom anymore; instead, I was standing in what appeared to be a greenhouse, bright plants flourishing everywhere. The weirdest part, though, was the woman who looked enough like Harry to be his twin sister lying on a couch, obviously unconscious and dressed to the nines in a ridiculous feathered gown. Wait a minute. Oh. Oh, shit. That… no. It couldn’t be. There was no way in the world that Harry fucking Dresden somehow managed to turn himself into a woman. No fucking way at all. Ever. 


	2. Chapter 2

                I stared up at the fairy lady, who looked, dare I say, loving for a second, as she stared at the woman who could not be Harry. I coughed, and her attention shot back to me, unblinking eyes unnervingly solid as they locked onto mine.

                “If you are to be my child’s handmaiden, those… rags of yours are horribly inappropriate.” She snapped her fingers once, a sharp, loud sound in the silence, and my pajamas were replaced with an idiotically flouncy, sunshine yellow, flower printed dress. I felt that my hair had been tamed, and also the solid pressure of a headband. I glared. The fucking fairy just smiled. “How sweet! Is this why my child is so fond of you, I wonder? Ah, but you are not his one, I see it in your face, your pretty little blue eyes. A friend, but little else. How sad, you’d be good for him, and he you. Still, I’ll not fight against that which is set in stone. Go, miss, and look after my dear until the party starts. Darling Harry will likely be a bit upset at that point, so do try to avoid any meltdowns, at least until after the dance.” Her smile was now serene and flowery, and the motion of her hand was dismissive. I stared down at myself, and saw the foreign sight of my legs and the sharp jut of my knees, admittedly a bit knobby. Lea shoved me forwards and I tripped a little on the heel she’d encased my foot with, since I wasn’t really used to wearing them. She disappeared with a melodious laugh, and I stepped forward of my own volition, towards the not-Harry on the couch.

                Up close, I had a harder time believing that she wasn’t Harry. Her face was long, with high cheekbones that could serve as knives, in a pinch. The long neck was the same, too, pale and thin, lined with tendons that seemed a little too tight. Even the hair was styled similarly, a dark muddy brown that’d probably look a lot better if its owner bothered to take better care of it. I had this feeling that if she opened her eyes, I’d see an endless expanse of soulful black, sparking with something magical that was purely Harry. I still didn’t want to believe that, though, because this being in front of me was purely woman, from the swell of her breasts in the feathered bodice to the wideness of her hips. I tried to ignore the fact that she was also easily over six feet tall, probably closer to seven, even without the heels she was in. As a matter of fact, her feet were hanging off the end of the couch in the way that only Harry’s ever could have. Fuck. Harry fucking Dresden actually did manage to turn himself into a woman. Somehow. I wondered if this would make him any less of a pig. Probably not. I bet he’s already groped himself. As I stared at the being on the couch, Mouse wandered in from somewhere unseen, his tail swaying rhythmically behind him when he saw me.

                His tongue lolled out of the side of his mouth in that doggy way of his, and he nosed Harry gently, as if trying to get him/her to wake up. When the hand didn’t immediately begin to pet him, he licked it once, and then came over to me. I buried my fingers deeply into the fur at his neck, and he whined, before he spared another glance to Harry. I sighed.

                “That is Harry, right Mouse?” He huffed, and actually seemed to nod a little. Harry really never did give his mutt credit for how smart he was. Sometimes I figured the damned dog could actually beat him on an IQ test, but hey, that’s just me. “Okay. So, how did he get like that?” The dog stared at me as if I was an idiot. I wondered if this was how Harry felt all the time. “Magic, right. Did he do this to himself somehow?” Another look, and I realized that my question was kind of idiotic. Of course Harry wouldn’t do this to himself on purpose; he was way too uncomfortable with sexuality and gender to actually do that to himself. So, who was the most likely suspect otherwise? Lea, obviously. “Was it the Leansidhe?” Mouse huffed again, which I assumed meant yes.  So, Lea had turned Harry into a woman for some unspecified reason, and then brought him here, to what I assumed was her domain. Why would she do that, though? And why would she then bring me here too? I tried to ask Mouse this stuff too, but he would only shiver as if he was cold, and I realized he was a dog, and therefore couldn’t talk to answer my questions. I shook my head and let him go. He seemed to roll his eyes at me before he wandered off.

* * *

        

Harry’s POV

                I woke up with a hellish headache, but that’s par for the course when it comes to Lea, to be honest. What I wasn’t really expecting, though, was for my knight in a yellow sundress to appear in front of my face. I’d always figured that I’d like to see Murphy in something besides pants and a ponytail, but now that the image was in front of me, it was sort of weird. It wasn’t that she wasn’t pretty, of course; she was, almost excessively so, in that high school cheerleader way of hers, it just wasn’t _her._ I was mostly sure that when the skirt came on, she stopped being Murphy the cop and turned into Karrin the sweet little girl. I didn’t really like it, to tell the truth. I groaned softly, and it came out a little higher pitched than it should have. I suddenly recalled my anatomy at the moment, and felt myself flush brightly. Murphy was seeing me like this. Oh, fuck. Murphy was seeing me as a woman. That was really weird. Like, really, really weird. And terrible. And I’d so never live this down. Hell’s Bells. I cleared my throat.

                “Uh. Hey, Murph. How’ve you been?” She raised one blonde eyebrow at me. I tried a smile. She didn’t seem to appreciate it.

                “Harry. Do you want to tell me what actually fucking happened, or should I go ask your dog again?” I decided to try for a joke, because this mess was too embarrassing to explain in one go.

                “Only if you tell me where you got such a pretty dress, Miss Murphy. You look so _cute._ ” She sneered at me and snorted in an unladylike fashion.

                “Same place you got yours, _Miss_ Dresden. Your psychopathic godmother kidnapped me and put this damned thing on me.” Oh. Oops. I tried a clumsy grin.

                “Sorry about that, but I promise I didn’t ask her to. As you can see, she’s in sort of a weird mood. I, uh, see, Mab came last night, and I pissed her off. Lea did this to protect me, because she’s dumb. I guess she brought you here to make me listen better or something.” She still looked really unimpressed. I slowly forced myself into a sitting position, even though the fluffy dress was throwing off my balance even more than the breasts and hips were.

                “Uh huh. Now, what was she talking about a dance?” Oh yeah, that. Pretty much the entire reason she’d knocked me out again in the first place. I shrugged.

                “I don’t know. I think she wants me to perform for the guests to a party she’s throwing for some ridiculous reason. I’m pretty sure that’s why she knocked me out.” Murphy nodded, and seemed to be about to speak again, but then Lea swept back inside, Mister cradled happily in her arms. I glared at him. He ignored me, because he’s a cat, and they’re good at that. She shifted her hold of the animal so that she was holding it with one hand, and then used her free one to drag me up to my feet. I tripped and stumbled on the heels, as she tugged me out of the greenhouse she’d apparently moved me to. Murphy followed, and if I didn’t know better, I’d have said she actually looked a little worried about me, but that’s stupid. Murphy doesn’t get worried. When Murphy gets worried, shit has irreparably hit the fan, and I don’t want to be around the day that that happens, especially since it’ll probably be my fault. I flinched away from the thought, for a second, and I felt Murphy’s hand pat my shoulder for a split second, although it disappeared quickly enough that I might’ve imagined it.

                Outside the greenhouse, a garden party was certainly happening. The grass was green, the primroses bright, and the Fay all lovely. There was a small, raised stage set up in the garden’s center, and on it a few couples danced with all the carelessness of immortals. I’d always been a little jealous of the easy grace of Fay, of how they didn’t have to worry about anything, but I shook those thoughts off. I liked being human. I wouldn’t want to be anything else. The Fay all stopped what they were doing, though, when they saw Lea and I, and some of them bowed. Lea smiled and inclined her head to them, obviously expecting me to do the same, but instead I simply set my jaw and ignored it all. I saw something flash in Murphy’s eyes for a second; something that looked like it was a tight mixture between worry and pride. Lea just pouted, though, and shoved me onto the stage.

                “My valued guests, I’ve procured a rather interesting little pet, recently. It is a mortal girl, one with the disobedience of a hundred creatures her size. I like to think I’ve tamed her a bit, though, and so, she shall dance for you all, the Swan Dance. I wondered how well an ‘I don’t wanna’ would go over right now, and was about to give it a try when the music started. I know this is really cliché, but my feet wouldn’t stay still. I’m speaking literally, though; it wasn’t just a situation of the music being in me, I was just forced to dance. Lea toodled her fingers at me in my own signature move, and I saw that the fingers of her other hand, the ones buried in my cat’s fur, were twitching and moving in very similar ways to my stupid feet.

                I twirled and spun, high on my feet, and twisted my way through moves I recognized but hadn’t actually performed in years. Ballroom dancing had been useful to me, once upon a time, but I’d never particularly liked it, so I hadn’t exactly practiced in a long time. Without Lea, I probably would’ve fallen at least ten times, by now. I scowled as I was forced up into a leap, and then landed in some kind of split. Ow. Have I mentioned that I hate Lea? I think that was the first time that day I was thankful that I wasn’t a guy. Stars and Stones. Murphy was staring at me, and was actually gaping a little. My breath was coming in heavy pants. The Fay clapped politely, some of them smiling, totally bored, and some of them leering in a way that was really uncomfortable. I was a virgin like this, damn it! I really didn’t want to do anything about that, especially not with a fucking fairy, because ow. And also ick. Lea allowed me to stumble to my feet and climb off the stage, after which she paraded me around to her guests. She paid particular attention to the men who’d leered at me, which was depressingly expected, honestly. Murphy kept gaping. I wanted to warn her about flies.

* * *

 

Marcone’s POV

                I was still leaning against my newly bullet-riddled vehicle when the small Wyldfay returned, glittering triumphantly, their smiles wide. I couldn’t help but hope this meant that Harry was alright. The largest of them, from whom sunshine yellow dust dripped, came and landed on my knee. A shock of bright orange-red hair plumed up from its head, and monarch butterfly wings twitched on its back. It bowed to me, and I nodded my own head in response.

                “Baron Marcone! General Toot-Toot states that the ‘Za Lord is in the Nevernever, sir! He states that the ‘Za Lord has been given the body of a lady so that he might be hidden from the wrath of the vengeful Queen of Winter!” What? I felt ashamed that that was all I could think. The body of a lady? The Nevernever? Wrath of Winter? What in the world had Harry done now? I felt a familiar ache start up in behind my eyes as I forced myself up to my feet. The little Fay fluttered around my face, eyes golden and mischievous. It pursed its lips at me. “Does… does the ‘Za Lord belong to thee, Baron Marcone? Is that why thou seem so upset by the news I’ve brought?” I shook my head.

                “No. He doesn’t belong to anyone,” I said, and I was being honest enough. Oh, I did indeed want him to belong to me; many did. I couldn’t ever imagine him actually belonging to another being, though. It simply wasn’t in his nature. “I do, however, care for him, and after last evening, I am worried.” The Fay nodded seriously.

                “Yes, yes! The damage that was done! Oh, how the ‘Za Lord fought against the Queen’s wicked might! Oh, how his fire blazed across the sky to combat the ice! Or, at least I was told by General Toot! The ‘Za Lord was weakened greatly by this encounter, though, weakened so much that his magic can’t even be seen. It’s made even worse by the suppressant he’s been fed by the Handmaiden! General Toot and his men had much trouble finding him, but an army is no army if they cannot even keep track of their own Lord!” I could tell that the little creature was growing more excited by the way its wings twitched more rapidly in the air.

                “The Handmaiden?” I questioned. I had no idea what a suppressant was, in the same way that I knew nothing of anything else that was suddenly happening, but it sounded rather ominous. The being nodded rapidly.

                “Indeed! The ‘Za Lord’s powerful Godmother! She has taken him away to her gardens, for protection.” Protection? How in the world did suppressing his magic, or turning him into a woman, for that matter, protect him? The little fairy must have seen something that frightened it in my face, because it fluttered quickly and neatly away from me. “Are mine kin and I free now, Baron Marcone, since we have brought thee the location of the ‘Za Lord?” I nodded, my teeth gritted harshly together, my nails digging deep welts into palms. The fairy seemed to disappear into the air with a bright white flash and fluff of the yellow dust. Something shadowy on the ground, something I’d somehow not noticed before, twitched and squirmed in the earth, slipped slowly towards Hendricks. Gard tugged him unassumingly out of the way, and I’d have paid the motion no mind had I not seen the wriggling thing. As Hendricks was moved, it abruptly changed direction and started to come towards me. I don’t truly know why, but I didn’t want the thing to touch me, at all. I leapt to my feet and walked around the car to stand by Gard and Hendricks. Gard smirked at me, and I coughed quietly.

                “Gard, do you know who the little fairy meant by the Handmaiden?” Her shoulders shifted in a delicate shrug that served as a perfect antithesis to her general rough personality.

                “I’ve a suspicion, of course, although it makes little sense, in relation to everything else that has occurred. Although, I suppose that with this world in its current state, I shouldn’t be questioning logic too excessively.” I sighed. Gard never was all that good at answering questions, unless they were totally direct and without option for the answer you wanted. I supposed that the nicer way of viewing it was that she wished to prepare me for dealings with fairies. I just assumed that the addition of magic to any being made that being at least twice as difficult to get along with.

                “And who is it that you suspect?”

                “The Winter Queen’s Handmaiden, the Leansidhe.” Gard was right, that made little sense. There would be no reason for Winter’s Handmaiden to assist someone who was, currently, an enemy of Winter. Although, it didn’t seem as though she was helping all that much anyway.

                “Why would she suppress his magic if she’s trying to protect him?” Gard raised her eyebrows and crossed her arms stiffly.

                “To hide him, obviously. His magic is a beacon that even the weakest magic users could easily pinpoint. To the Winter Queen, finding him would be child’s play. Although, I must wonder why the Leansidhe would choose to make him a woman. If anything, that would only give his power a bit of a boost, as magic is generally inherited from one’s mother. Although, I suppose it would make him a bit easier to conceal, as it’s more common for fairies to keep mortal women than mortal men.” Gard was going off into one of her tangents, I could see it already. It was an odd habit of hers, one where she got herself caught on a subject she found interesting and continuously talked herself through it. It was strangely mortal habit, one that no one would truly expect of her, but that trace of humanity had made me relax far more around her. I saw the black blob seeking one of us out again.

                “I don’t particularly care for her reasons, if it is indeed she that the fairy was referring to. Come, we must go fetch him.” She seemed a bit unwilling, and even Hendricks was noticeably shifting his weight a bit from foot to foot. I noticed that they both looked somewhat tired. I also found myself not really caring. Harry was in trouble, and that always came first, whether or not he wanted to acknowledge me, and the help I offered him, which he often didn’t.

                “Going into the Nevernever right now, Mr. Marcone. The barrier is quite weak, and who knows what is wreaking havoc on the other side?” I crossed my arms and stared. She worked for me. Who was she to argue? It wasn’t as if I was telling her she absolutely had to go through to the other side with me. I simply wanted a portal opened to wherever Harry was. She sighed. “I suppose you’ll not relent and allow me to gather some sort of party?” I shook my head. “Fine, then. Here,” she paused and whispered something or another, allowed a rune to flash a heavenly blue in the air for a split second, and then, a pulsing black wound gaped raggedly open in the air before me. Frozen wind whipped at my jacket from inside, and from the sides dripped more of those black blobs. I stepped through the portal, carefully avoiding the things, although a few drops of them still landed on me. I hardly noticed it when they sunk through my skin, so focused was I on getting to Harry.

* * *

 

Harry’s POV

                “No.” I said it with such conviction that I actually had the delusion that Lea would listen to me. I really should know better, shouldn’t I? The party had dissipated pretty suddenly, about twenty minutes ago, after I kicked some guy in the balls for attempting to put his finger somewhere where his finger should not have been going. It’s funny how even immortal males will fall in the face of a high heel to the crotch. It’s pretty impressive, at least to me, but then I have this pretty horrible habit of going right for the danglies in a fight, at least if the thing that I’m fighting has danglies. Still, Murphy looked pretty proud of me when she saw me deliver that kick, probably because she taught it to me in some self-defense lesson she gave me a few months ago. Lea was substantially less proud, and allowed the guy to grope pretty much all of me in recompense. I ‘accidentally’ elbowed him in the jaw, and that stupidity ended. Now, she was holding some type of pink thing out at me.

                It was fluffy and bright, with ruffles and a bow on the chest. The top part of the sleeves was fluffy, while the bottom of them would hang somewhat loosely around my arms and sported even more ruffles. The dumb shirt was a button down, too, which was sort of stupid, since I despised button downs. Two straps crossed in an X above the bow and would go, I was pretty sure, around my neck, which would be horribly uncomfortable. The skirt fluttered out, and ribbons tied in more bows went around the end of the monstrosity’s upper layer. It looked as though it’d hang around my knees, and a pair of knee socks and a pair of matching pink shoes. I was wearing the feathery beast, yeah, but I wasn’t wearing pink. Nope. No pink for me. I’m not going that far. Fuck off. Lea smiled sweetly, her lips full and vicious.

                “I’m afraid you haven’t got a choice, dear. What you’re wearing is a party dress, Harry; this is a house dress.” I don’t wanna. I don’t wanna. I really, really don’t wanna. It’s so, so pink. I hate pink. Murphy looked like she was hiding snickers. My friends are good people. They’re also huge assholes. Hell’s goddamned Bells. I was about to protest some more, but then I was naked. Again. Murphy stopped snickering, and instead was staring. Son of a bitch. I crossed my legs and my arms to preserve some dignity. Well, how would you feel if one of your best friends suddenly saw you as a gender you weren’t supposed to be? It was freaky, okay? Then she had to go and make it worse by talking.

                “Jesus. I knew she made you a girl shape-wise, but I didn’t think it went all the way down.” I blushed. Lea laughed.

                “To be perfectly honestly, Miss, I didn’t change much beyond that little feature. Yes, I softened the face a bit, and exaggerated a few of the shapes, but the core of him is still the same. I didn’t change his legs at all, you know, or his backside.” Son of a bitch. I knew about the legs, but my ass? I was a little tempted to reach behind myself and check, because there was no way the ass I had like this was my ass. Murphy nodded.

                “I noticed that much. He’s never been the most masculine guy in the world, and his legs are better than mine. I’ve always figured it was because they were so fucking long, but whatever.” Lea did at least take pity on me at this point, because she snapped a finger and dressed me in the Evil Pink Monster. It was so… _fluttery._ I mean, it was comfortable and all (except for the matching hat. I hadn’t seen the hat. Where had she been hiding it?), but it was… it was it. Did I really need a reason beyond that? It existed, and that was enough, damn it. So shush. Just… I hate everything. My life. My shiny new body. Lea. And Murphy too, a little, because she was fucking laughing at me again. Stars and motherfucking stones. The stupid dress pinched and scratched in uncomfortable places, but the shoes were at least a hell of a lot more tolerable, since the heel was only about an inch and a half, as opposed to the others, which had easily been four or five inches. Because I totally need to be taller. Stupid, stupid Lea. Fairytales really do have the wrong idea when it comes to fairy Godmothers. They might be cool in theory, but they’re hell in practice. I wondered, for a single, ridiculous second, if maybe my penis was in some inter-dimensional space, and if I could just jump to it and put it back on, so I could wear pants. I like pants. Lea doesn’t think girls should wear pants. I want a new fairy godmother. Can Cinderella and I trade?

* * *

 

                Lea allowed me to pout for about five minutes, before she dragged me back inside the house and into the kitchen, where an old cast iron stove hulked in the corner, close to an icebox that was somehow nicer than mine. I blinked at it. Was Lea showing off or something? She sighed.

                “Cook, darling. I’m sure you and your mortal would like to eat.” I cocked my head at her.

                “Can’t you just magic something up like you did earlier?” Once again, her smile was vicious.

                “I could, certainly, and yet I’d prefer not.” Bitch. Everyone is a bitch, except me. I’m not a bitch. I’m a really cool person whom everybody loves. No exceptions. The rest of the world just doesn’t understand, really. Still, the bitch was my godmother, and she could probably make my heart stop beating with a sharp look, and she was sort of protecting me just then, so I figured I should maybe be not quite so much of an asshole. Still, I could be pouty about it, so I huffed and sputtered theatrically for a couple of minutes, before I finally nodded. Murphy raised her eyebrow at me, as if she knew the whole time I wouldn’t actually put up a fight. I wondered exactly when I really had become a house wife.

                “Fine. Stupid bitch,” I mumbled, stomping over to the stove and getting it fired up. Lea smacked the back of my head, which didn’t make her any less of a stupid bitch. Murphy was snickering again, because she secretly hates me. I yanked the icebox open and dug around until I found something that looked vaguely edible, and that I could probably cook. Murphy pulled a stool around from the living room and plopped down on it somewhere behind me, and Lea listed away, too graceful for words and more deadly than anyone else in the room. I tore open the packaging the vegetable product I’d dug from the icebox was wrapped in, found a pan, and got it on the stove. Murphy watched me wander around, for a few seconds.

                “All the time I’ve known you, and I didn’t know you could cook,” she said, sounding oddly reflective about that. So what if she didn’t know something like that? It wasn’t like we lived together or anything, and I didn’t really broadcast the fact that I cooked for myself, since I was pretty sure no one actually gave a damn. I shrugged and started chopping some something or another that closely resembled a carrot, except it was a funny shade of orange.

                “Well, what’d you think I did? I do live alone, Murph, except for the fuzzy things, and they can’t work a stove yet.” As if summoned, the fuzzy cat thing bashed into the back of my legs. I glared at him. “Nope. Lea’s been good enough for you since we got here. Don’t come whining to me if she doesn’t want to pet you right now.” He mewed. I felt my resolve crumbling almost immediately, but did my damndest to stay strong. I made it all of ten seconds before I had to bend over and scratch behind his ears. I blamed the influx of new, unfamiliar hormones. He purred appreciatively for a few seconds, then nosed my leg happily and meandered over to Murphy, who also petted him. I wondered where Mouse had run off to.

                “I don’t know. I kind of figured you just lived on shitty pizza, honestly. You buy the shit all the damned time.” I laughed, and it sounded way, way too weird in my new voice. I saw Murphy shake her head a little at it too.

                “Nah, I don’t buy that for me. You know those little fairies that follow me around, sometimes? It’s for them. They love the stuff, and if I give them that as a reward, they do little tasks and things for me. It’s pretty helpful.” She nodded.

                “How about when you were with Susan, or Luccio?” I raised my eyebrows at her, started seasoning the vegetable thing, and I found some meat that looked probably okay.

                “What about it?” She sighed.

                “Did you still cook then?”

                “Why wouldn’t I have? They liked my food. I’ve been cooking since I was eight, Murph; I promise I’m not going to poison you.” She pursed her lips.

                “You cooked in the orphanage?” I shook my head.

                “Nope, I was with a family, then, and the parents had a couple of other kids that were younger than me. They weren’t around a lot of the time, so I learned to cook so I could take care of them. I didn’t stay there all that long, though, only about six months. Can’t even remember any of their names, honestly, even though I sort of feel like a dick for it.” She nodded, and looked all reflective again. Her lips were pulled down in a frown, maybe a little stiff, but not angry. I scratched my head as a sweet smell began to emanate from whatever it was I was cooking. I dropped the not-carrot into the pan with everything else.

                “You never did tell me about any of the families you lived with. You had to have liked at least one of them.” I turned away from her, to watch the food, mind. It wasn’t because I didn’t want to talk about this, obviously.

                “I wasn’t with any of them long enough to like them. You’ve got to remember, Murph, families who’re looking for children don’t want freaks, and I’m a freak. My personality isn’t exactly a new development, you know. I’ve always been like this, and when the magic came… I wasn’t the best-behaved kid in the world.” Something weird twisted in her face, something that made her look not quite ugly, but certainly not pretty either. I didn’t like it, coming from her.

                “Freak?” I shrugged.

                “Call ‘em like I see ‘em. A freak is a freak, Murph, and by now, I’ve kind of embraced that title. Hell, I got called that enough, I may as well enjoy it.” I flipped the meat product in the pan along with the other stuff, and dug out something I was pretty sure was a type of wine, so I could sauté the stuff. Murphy kept watching, and I noticed she’d gotten the yellow dress dirty already, even though I hadn’t seen her doing anything that could possibly get the outfit messy. I guessed she might’ve just had the same magnetism for dirt that I myself did.

                “How did you end up in Chicago, Harry?” I tensed a little, and I know she noticed. She’d gotten so damned close to figuring everything out before, so damned close to getting me and her both killed, or at least chastised in a way that’d make us both wish we were dead. Sometimes I hated that she was so damned smart.

                “That’s getting mighty close to one of those things I’m not allowed to talk about, Murphy.” She stopped talking. After I’d told her the dangers of talking, the reasons why I kept some things to myself, she’d learned when to stop asking questions and trust me. It’d taken a long damned time for us to get to this level of trust, but I was grateful for it, for what we could share with one another. The sweet smell from the food intensified as it finished cooking, at which point I took it off the stove and brought it into Lea’s attached dining room. Murphy followed me and sat down silently. She spoke one more time when Lea walked in.

                “I’m going to find out what happened to you one day, Harry, all of it, and you know that as well as I do. I wish you’d just tell me yourself, so I can try to fucking help you.” I pretended she hadn’t said anything, because I didn’t need help. I plated all the food, and was about to sit down when the front door got bashed down. I didn’t expect the man I saw on the other side, the one with a thin layer of blue blood coating his skin and his suit and a recently fired gun in one hand. John motherfucking Marcone, Baron of Chicago and all around pain in my ass. I’d never seen him with that particular expression, though, one that was totally twisted with rage and fixed in a snarl. I hadn’t known he even could look like that, actually. He stomped right over to me and grabbed the front of my dress (God that sounds weird), his fingers curling around the little straps that made the X. He jerked me down towards his level, and if we hadn’t already had one, I’d have been in a Soul Gaze with him. His eyes didn’t look quite like his eyes, just then, because they were too bright, too new. Gard and Hendricks, who stood somewhat behind him, looked nervous. I raised my eyebrows, and for a second, I forgot I was a girl just then, and forgot that he was probably the last person I wanted to see me this way, because he’d never fucking let me live it down. Of course, Murphy wouldn’t either, but we were friends, so she was allowed.

                “Hey, Johnny boy. How’s it hanging?” His eyes flashed again. Something was wrong with him, I could tell that much pretty easily.

                “Harry. Harry, what the _hell_ were you thinking, playing such a stupid, dangerous fucking game? Going after the goddamned Winter Queen?” I smashed my hand over his mouth suddenly. Him actually talking about that with me around would only draw attention to me, which was pretty much the exact opposite of what I wanted to do.

                “Shut up, John. Who the fuck is Harry, anyway? Everyone around here keeps talking about him, saying I look like him, but I’m a fucking girl, and I’ve never met a guy named Harry in my life.” And people say I’m not a good liar. Even Murphy looked a little impressed, over by her corner of the table. Lea strode forward cattishly, and took Marcone by the wrist. Her smile was bestial, but perfectly polite all the same. He returned it with a matching one.

                “Mr. Marcone, I do not appreciate uninvited guests, and I fear that you are only putting someone you care about in danger by coming here. He is safe, Mr. Marcone, worry not. I’ll look after him until the fervor quiets. Now, you’ll be feeling quite upset, certainly, and I’ll assume it’s due to some form of contact with the degrading barrier. I can draw it out of you, of course. Perhaps then you’ll be a bit more reasonable.”

                “Do not presume to touch me, damned fairy. Just give him to me, and I’ll be on my way.” Lea sneered, a rare expression for her, but I’ll admit that Marcone kind of deserved it, just then. I tried to step over to them anyway, because Lea would almost certainly blow up at being called a fairy instead of one of the Sidhe, but she waved a quick hand at me, and the low heels suddenly transformed into a pair of platforms that shot me up to at least 7’1”. I stumbled backwards in an attempt to regain my balance, and just ended up catching the dress hem on the sharp corner of the table. It ripped. The whole damned thing ripped right fucking off, so I was standing there in a pair of panties and, well, would you look at that, Lea didn’t believe in bras. Hell’s fucking Stars and goddamned motherfucking Stones Bells. Marcone’s attention drifted quite suddenly. I really hoped he had a concussion, because I wasn’t doing this. Nope. Nuh uh. Not at all. Maybe he was looking at Murphy. She was cute in a dress, even if she wasn’t herself.

                “I am no fairy, Mr. Marcone, I am one of the Sidhe. I would appreciate it if _you_ did not presume to lower my status in such a way. I’d also appreciate it if you ceased your lustful staring.” I balanced myself carefully on the table edge and started wobbling my way forward, towards Lea and Marcone, so maybe I could stop them before they levelled the Nevernever. My heels went up another two inches. Shit, shit, shit.

                “I apologize,” he snarled, and I noticed, suddenly, that Lea was holding his hand, and her lips were moving softly. She carefully, gently, drew something dark from his body, something dark and writhing that looked like those things I’d seen right after Mab left. Were they… oh, son of a bitch. They were going into mortals and changing their personalities, making them rage. They were dangerous as hell, whatever they were. Bits of the barrier, I think Lea said. She crushed the blob between two of her fingers, and Marcone seemed to deflate a little. I stumbled suddenly, and prepared for a close encounter with the rather unforgiving floor. It disappointed me, because instead I got a close encounter with a set of not-so-unforgiving arms. Still, I need a second to gather myself, before I say this next part. Okay. Breathe in. Breathe out. Just say it. John. Marcone. Grabbed. My. Ass. Yeah. And then he whispered in my ear. “At least she hasn’t changed that part of you.” I wanted to cry. This was worse than the super manly masculine man time slap fight with Lea! Murphy sounded like she couldn’t breathe from somewhere behind me. I jerked away and ended up falling on the ass Marcone apparently admired, which really hurt.

                “No. I’m broken now. Shutting down. Powering off. Catch you all on the flipside.” Marcone laughed, and bent to pull me back up to my feet. I removed the shoes on the way. The funny thing was, Marcone’s eyes stayed on my face rather than drifting down to the jiggly bits on my chest. Wasn’t he attracted to female me or something? Shouldn’t he be looking at the breasts instead of the part that didn’t actually change in any significant way? I slid my hand out of his. Hendricks was gaping at me. Gard looked ready to hit him. Murphy was still choking on something. Lea still looked rather pissed. Jesus Christ. What in the world was going on here? It was getting sort of ridiculous. Can’t I just go home? Probably not, because things aren’t easy for me, like, ever. It’s not allowed. Against the laws of nature and whatnot, the Almighty hates me, yadda yadda yadda. I wondered if Lea would be willing to put clothes back on me. I never thought I’d want a dress quite as much as I did right then. Lea finally allowed herself a heavy, world-weary sigh as I dropped onto one of the chairs. I still wasn’t used to the parts of me that moved when I did that, now. Marcone was still weirdly uninterested in those parts, too.

                “You truly are quite rough on clothing, dear,” she told me, and did her bippity boppity boop thing again to suit me up in a black dress with a flower pattern and delicate details cut into the hem that even I had to appreciate. I appreciated the slightly cutting feeling of the fluffy sleeves digging into my elbows much less. I wondered if Lea had any comfy dresses. I should ask, next time. Marcone sighed and rubbed his head, so I figured I should probably go into an explanation about what was going on.

                “Look, Marcone, I’m perfectly alright here, for now. You guys just need to try and get reality fixed up. Call the Council and ask for Ebenezer McCoy, Anastasia Luccio, and Carlos Ramirez. They’ll be able to help out, plus, Eb is Senior Council, so he might be able to get them on board to help too, plus I’m sure Gard knows a shit ton of things tough enough to help fix it. I’ll be back sometime after it’s all done, but I’ve got to lay low for a little bit.” He crossed his arms tightly.

                “No. I can look after you myself. You don’t need to rely on that fairy. She’s dangerous” And thus the pot called the kettle black. I sighed.

                “I know, Johnny, but she’s my safest option at the moment. Look, I’m not injured, see?” He growled quietly. I wondered if the barrier was still messing with him, because he was being weirdly emotional. Hendricks and Gard had gone back to looking like statues.

                “No, you’re just a woman whose stuffed full of magic suppressants,” he hissed quietly, as if that would hide his words from Winter’s ears.

                “I’m doing it to stay under the radar, John, and if you don’t stop talking about it, it’s not going to matter anyway, because I’ll be dead.” He shut up real quick, but he didn’t do it for long.

                “Hendricks, Gard, go. Clear up the mess in the real world. I’m staying here.” Hell’s Bells. So now I’m a woman, my best friend has seen me that way, my godmother has gone even more psycho with the dress up than usual, and a mafia don was attempting to play Blessed Protector with me because he thought female me was cute for some inconceivable reason. Can anything else flip its shit today, or am I finally done?     


	3. Chapter 3

                Hendricks and Gard obeyed with a speed that was, quite frankly, pretty annoying. And also creepy. No man should be able to get other people to listen to him that damned fast. I shook my head and crossed my legs at the knee, because I still wasn’t quite aware of that modesty thing girls had to worry about. Lea looked thoughtfully malicious, as if she were trying to think of a perfectly legal way to kill the motherfucker that was trespassing in her house. I almost wanted to wish her luck, because the police force has long proven that it’s literally impossible to catch Marcone at anything illegal, even for a fairy. I still felt a lightning bolt burst of something that couldn’t have been worry jolt through my chest, though. I figured I had indigestion. Marcone moved to sit at the table beside me, the blue blood drying stickily on his skin. I sighed.

                “Marcone. Hell’s Bells, man, go jump in a lake or something. You look disgusting.” He allowed himself a somewhat rare, if small and teasing, smile.

                “I do apologize. Lady Leansidhe, is there a place where I may bathe?” It was said politely, but he was obviously still pissed with her. Or me, really, but when wasn’t he pissed with me? She rolled her eyes, snapped her fingers, and he was clean. She didn’t play dress up with him, though, the lucky bastard. How come the criminal scumbags get free passes for everything, huh? Where’s the wizard’s golden ticket? Whatever. Anyway, I grabbed Marcone another plate from the tiny attached kitchen, and we all got busy clearing away the food. It all tasted mostly okay, if strange, and the not-carrot left behind a deadly aftertaste, but still. At least I cooked, and Lea should have made it herself if she wanted someone who knew jack shit about fairy food to make dinner. Murphy spent the entirety of the meal staring at Marcone, and while he was admittedly sort of interesting, I didn’t think he warranted that much scrutiny. No one spoke until the meal was finished.

                “Miss Murphy, do take my dear back to the room in which he awoke and help him dress for bed,” Lea said, her voice gentle now that she’d calmed down some. Murphy nodded and come over to me. I’d never really seen her that obedient of her own free will, before. I figured she’d somehow learned something I didn’t yet know, because that would be just like her, and just like these last few stupid days.

                I walked to my bedroom with Murphy, but kicked her out pretty quick, so I could change on my own. She’d seen my newly feminized ass naked enough times, lately; I didn’t want to put her through such torture again so soon. I’d only just gotten the fucking gown on (it was silk, by the way, and it left distressingly little to the imagination, mostly due to the room’s consistent chill) when Marcone barged in. Once again, his eyes stayed firmly on my face, as if I was no different from the last time he’d seen me, which I knew was a bold faced lie. You know, I usually like looking people in the eyes, since I generally can’t, but with Marcone, it’s always been sort of weird. To be honest, it always feels like he’s trying to be the first person to Soul Gaze the same person twice, with that intense stare of his. His eyes are the only ones that have ever unnerved me, and after the beasts I’ve stared down, that’s saying something. He grabbed my wrist, and his fingers overlapped. I felt small. I wondered if my wrist was any wider when I was a man, and couldn’t quite remember. His mouth was set in a thin, tight line.

                “Harry, come. I’ll get you out of here; Gard’s given me a rune to open a Way out of here.” I yanked my arm free of him and crossed them both over my chest so he couldn’t grab it back.

                “I’ve told you a hundred times that I’m safer here, Marcone. You don’t even need to be here.” I’ll admit that I was getting a little pissed. Stars and Stones, he was treating me like I was helpless, like I wasn’t fit to decide where I would be safest, and I hated that, hated it from anyone. I wasn’t helpless. I hadn’t been helpless in a long time, and it didn’t matter that I was in a different body. I was still me. I was still strong. He heaved a sigh he had no right to.

                “Harry, I only want to protect you, to help you. Please stop being so damned contrary and come with me.” I was about to say something else when a thought occurred to me; he didn’t want to protect me, he never had. He wanted to own me like everybody else that said those stupid words to me. A sudden flash of anger sparked through me, anger at myself, him, this situation, my whole damned life. Pent up things I hadn’t even known had been pent up spilled out of me in a sudden, unstoppable flood.

                “You don’t want to protect me, Marcone, you want to own me, just like the rest of the fucking world. You want to tether me, and you want to do it now, because Winter has me weakened, right? Pluck me up fast before anyone else get the change, huh? You know, the Council was saying that they wanted to keep me safe too, at first. They said I was in the cell to keep the demon from going after me again. They said that Morgan was going to be like a bodyguard, but they were lying. You are too. All of you just want me on your respective side, because I’m dangerous, aren’t I? All power, no brains, no control. A loose cannon. A ticking time bomb down to its last seconds. A wild card. A black sheep. A _freak._ Yeah. I’m just a freak. I don’t belong with vanillas or with Wizards. I am the child of a woman who spent more time with the Fay in the Nevernever than anyone else. She came up with the idea of Gray Magic. I have bad blood, pretty much everyone who knows the political side of magic, except for Lea, tells me so, but you know what? I respect her. I love her even though I never met her, because she and I are the same. Freaks. Okay, Marcone, not its time for the part you’ll really love to hear: I’ve thought about working for you, for everyone that’s offered me a deal, and I’ve always loved the idea of how nice things would be for me, if I’d just bow down and say yes for once in my life.”

                “That all scares the hell out me, though. I’ve been told I was a freak, evil, dangerous, for most of my life. Maybe I am. Maybe all this world saving shit has just been a fluke, a way to delay the inevitable future of me finally blowing up and taking all those deals and levelling this world once and for all, because I could do it, you know. If I talked to Nicodemus, to Winter, to Lea, to you, to the vampires, I could do it. Or maybe it’d be better if I just died before any of that happened, if I just picked up my gun and made it all end. What good could a freak like me do in the end anyway? So many people have died because of me, Marcone, because someone knew they were close to me, because I didn’t tell them enough to keep them safe, because I told them too much and it pissed someone off. I am not a good man. I haven’t been a good man since I turned sixteen. That’s the first time I killed, you know. Sixteen. I burned someone alive. I’m a freak. A murderous, dangerous freak.” I was yelling without realizing it, and I noticed distantly that my face was wet. Maybe Lea had been making rain inside, for dramatic effect. Marcone suddenly slapped me hard across my cheek, hard enough that his hand had to sting. He looked positively bestial.

                “Harry, you may say whatever you will about me or anyone else. I do not care. However, do not ever think to speak of yourself in such a way in front of me again. I will not stand for it, Harry. You are not a freak. You are interesting, you are beautiful, you are amazing, you are powerful, you are a hero, a good man, someone who has saved me and my city and its people more times than any other. You are yourself, Harry, and don’t you dare forget it. There are many who need you, myself included. Do not even think of cutting that lovely life of yours short, of giving your wonderful will to another. You cannot save everyone, Harry, you are but one man, and I have seen the lengths you go to in order to protect those you grace with your affection. Those who have died in your care could not have been saved by a thousand men. Also, Harry, whoever that person you are mentioning is, the one you killed, they deserved it. I have seen your soul, Harry, and you would never kill a person who had not done wrong. I truly wish you could see yourself the way I do, Harry, so that you might understand half the beauty that exists within you.” My smile was entirely involuntary, I swear. I coughed to clear the thickness from my throat, and wiped my eyes with the back of my hand.

                “Keep it in your pants, Johnny boy, this body I’ve got right now is temporary. Don’t go all gentleman on me just because I’ve got different parts for a while.” He snorted in his shock, and it was actually pretty cute, in a strange sort of way. Stupid new hormones. Please do ignore the fact that I’ve admitted to him being handsome a few times when I had my penis. I felt suddenly, strangely, warm and calm and relaxed and not quite happy, but somewhere close. I felt a little deflated, too, now that so many things I hadn’t known I’d been hiding were shoved out into the open. Guilt, hate, depression, it had fled me as if a fairy had touched my head. Maybe there was something to that ‘talking about your issues’ thing after all. Maybe I should take Murphy up on her offer to tell her everything, my past, my troubles, some time.

                “Harry, my thoughts about you have been far from gentlemanly for quite some time. Have a good night. I’ll attempt to convince you to leave with me again in the morning.” And then he, master of creepy exits that he is, left. I remained unsure of whether his parting statement had been an attempt to flirt with me, an attempt to threaten me, or a terrible mixture of both, the bastard. I huffed, flopped down sideways onto the bed, and fell asleep.

* * *

 

Thomas’ POV

                Harry wasn’t answering his phone. Because obviously he hates me and wants me to worry myself fucking senseless. It was late, but he hadn’t answered all day, even though I’d been calling every hour at first, and then every half hour after he hadn’t picked up for a while, so I left my own apartment, climbed into my Hummer, and drove quickly to his place. I might’ve broken a speed limit or two, but no one actually saw me do it, except for the other drivers (who secretly don’t matter) I nearly ran off the road, so it actually didn’t happen. When I pulled up to Harry’s door, the charm he’d given me to get in felt heavy. I wondered if that was a sign of something as I forced the broken steel door open.

                The apartment was totally empty, without even Mouse and Mister as occupants, and his bedroom door was leaning against his wall, totally off of its hinges, with a note stuck to it that read, “Couldn’t fix. Extra pizza for extra work.” I ran a hand through my hair, felt my body go taut with fear and nerves. Bob. Bob would be able to tell me where the hell Harry was. I went over to my little brother’s thick, Navaho rug and yanked it up, then went quickly downstairs to the subbasement. Bob was somehow already awake, and there was something scared in his eyes. My won worry ratcheted up another ten pegs, because Bob simply didn’t goddamn act like this. My moronic baby brother had to have done something moronic again.

                “Bob, where is he?” I asked, and he gave me an answer I never would’ve expected, one I hadn’t even known was possible.

                “I don’t know,” he said, and there was no inflection to the words, no personality, no Bob. More worry appeared within me.

                “What do you mean?” The lights of his eyes blazed red for a split second, before they faded back to orange.

                “I mean I don’t fucking know! He’s dropped off the map, and it’s my goddamned fault! He got weak, protecting me from fucking Mab, and reality got fucked up. I told him to summon the Leansidhe, because she could probably help him. She must’ve taken him, because I don’t fucking feel him anywhere, Thomas!” This time he was screaming, and it made my ears ache. Gone, Harry. Gone. Brother, friend, gone. Reality. Broken. Weak. Harry. _Gone._ My thoughts were loose and disjointed. What had been wrong with reality? Lea took Harry. Were they in the Nevernever? Had she made him into a dog? Why couldn’t Bob see him? Was he dead? Was he that weak? Had he really dropped off the planet? I had to try and go get him.

                “Bob, get me to Lea. Harry told you to listen to me when he was gone, right? Get me to her, and I’ll find him.” Bob’s candle flame eyes looked blank and dim.

                “It’d be dangerous. The barrier’s falling apart. It’s been fixed some, and it’s been getting better and better by the minute, but it’s still weak as hell. If pieces of it get on you, I don’t know what’ll happen. It makes mortals go a little crazy, a little rampage-y. It might be worse on you because of the White Court blood.” I snarled.

                “I don’t give a damn about any of that. I need to find him.” Lusterless flame eyes continued to gaze at me, and a shadowy hole appeared in front me. Wisps of black smoke poured from the edges and a few dribbles of something mostly solid and thick, like oil, oozed onto the concrete floor. I thanked him with a nod and stepped through.

* * *

 

                On the other side, I saw a garden full of primroses that were coated in viscous blue fairy blood, as well as the bullet-riddled remains of what looked like a caterpillar. What the hell had happened here? Whatever. The caterpillar corpse wasn’t attacking me, even if it was sort of twitching a little, so I ignored it and went forwards towards a cabin that somehow managed to hulk even as it appeared dainty. It had to be Lea’s, so I marched towards it with the light of millions of crystalline stars shining down on me. The silence was perfect and absolute, so I bashed the fucking door down. It gave rather easily, as if it had already been broken down before, but that was just silly. Besides me, who could possibly be stupid enough to barge into a Sidhe’s house without an invitation?

                I yelled and screamed and cussed up a storm as soon as I got inside. Three people and a fairy came running to greet me, which is some great service, let me tell you. Harry was the first one I actually became aware of, though, even if he was up two tits and, presumably, down a dick. I ran up to him and wrapped him tightly in a hug, during which process I became aware of another person, John Marcone, through his rumbling, upset growl. I ignored him, though, out of general principal, and finally acknowledged that Murphy was there too with a polite nod.

                “Harry!” I said it with more desperation that I’d actually intended, and Harry granted me a smile that looked not ugly, but different on his somewhat altered face.

                “Hey, Thomas. You know, you’re the first person that hasn’t seemed shocked by my current features,” he said, his voice tired and only slightly higher than it should’ve been. I laughed a laugh that was flooded with relief at him being alright.

                “You’re my you-know-what, Harry; I’d recognize you right way no matter what you change about yourself. You look stupidly cute, by the way, and I don’t approve of it. What’s tall, dark, and mobster doing here anyway?” Lea smiled the sweetest smile you’ve ever seen, and spoke before anyone else could.

                “He is Harry’s One. I only just decided a few moments ago, you see, shortly before you intruded. I was quite caught between that option and killing him for trespassing. La. The choices a godmother must make!” Empty Night. I don’t want to imagine my face after hearing that particular bit of information. Marcone looked caught between shock and joy, Harry just looked shocked, and Murphy looked like she wanted to laugh while she puked. I was pretty sure I was siding with her, but with an extra helping of Marcone-killing-endorphins. If he was no longer alive, you see, Lea couldn’t throw my brother at him, and I could be all happy and whatnot. I glared at her, and hugged him tighter. It was nowhere near as comfortable as it usually was, because my demon was reacting to him like this, and I was having to fight harder than I should’ve been to keep it in check. It was made even harder by the fact that all the worrying I’d been doing, all the fear I’d felt, had made my control even weaker.

                “No,” I told her. “That’s not a thing you get to decide, Lea.” She cocked her head.

                “Oh? Have you someone in mind that would be better, firstborn of my dear Maggie? You of course have a say in his future, as you would be the one to give him away.” I glared.

                “He can choose who to be with all by himself. It’s not your place, or mine, to pick.” She sighed.

                “Foolish mortals and their foolish customs. He belongs to the laws of Fairy just as much as he belongs to the laws of the mortal realm, meaning I do indeed get a say in who he couples with. I cannot, perhaps, force it, but I can certainly make his path run in a direction I favor. My godson is under my dominion, and it shall always be so, oh child of my child, oh brother of my dearest.” Harry looked uncomfortable, so I let up on him. He wasn’t looking at my face.

                “Leave it, Thomas. I’ll talk to her later. I mean, she’s not really lying. She’s got all sorts of rights to me, and the denizens of fairy could make a pretty good argument that I’m under fairy rule because of some of my connections, but still. I’ll talk to her.” I nodded, even though I didn’t really hear much beyond the fact that Harry would talk to the damned fairy woman. I had to pull away from him and step back so I could gather my thoughts again. Harry looked worried over me, and I offered a smile to reassure him. It didn’t seem to work all that well, but he at least relaxed a little. Marcone moved to fill the space I’d been in what lesser eyes would see as a subconscious gesture, but what I recognized to be a very conscious decision, one that staked a claim. I bared my teeth in a quick, bright flash, but he ignored it, ignored me. Harry didn’t seem to notice, but then he didn’t notice a lot of things, and a new gender wouldn’t change that.

                “Is… oh, fuck it. Is someone going to tell me what the hell is happening?” Murphy hissed suddenly, her arms crossed. I wanted to laugh, a little, at the sight of her in a flannel nightgown. Hey, wait a fucking second! How come she gets flannel and my baby brother has to wear… that. Lea is whoring him out the bitch! She smiled serenely again, because she’s good at that, and it’s unnerving, which is her favorite thing to be.

                “Well, Miss Murphy, I just announced that my godson is now to be courted by the mighty Baron of Chicagoland. It’s rather happy, don’t you think?” She sputtered.

                “No! He’s a criminal!” She kept smiling.

                “A criminal who risked his life to keep my darling Harry safe. There are few so foolish to rush into my lair as he did, beyond Mr. Raith over there, but he is blood, and so such actions are expected of him.” And she kept fucking blabbing our family history. I didn’t see how Marcone could _not_ know, by now. Murphy looked ready to yell some more, but Lea stopped us all with her voice. “Now, we shall all go back to bed. In the morning, Mr. Marcone will escort you all to your respective homes, except for Harry, of course, who will be staying with Mr. Raith until it is safe to return him to his previous form.” Her tone offered no chance of argument. I tried to stop him, but Marcone followed Harry back to his room anyway. I waited outside the door so I could listen in and intervene in case of any molesting.

* * *

 

Harry’s POV

                Marcone followed me into my room again like a lost dog. I sighed and dropped onto the bed. I continued to jiggle long after I had done this. I glared at the floor, and he still didn’t look at the parts most men would be interested in at this point, even though Lea had just offered me to him on a silver platter, even though she could keep my this way forever if he wanted her to.

                “What now, Marcone?” I wasn’t angry with him anymore, not really, and what Lea had said wasn’t his fault anyway. I mean, hell, he’d allowed me the venting I hadn’t known I needed, allowed me to yell and cry and scream however much I wanted and, presumably, hadn’t gotten upset with me. He’d reminded me again that he wasn’t a bad man, hadn’t ever been a bad man, was just a man that did bad things for reasons that he found noble. I guessed that, in a way, he played with the bad guys so the innocent ones wouldn’t have to. Still, I was tired, and I didn’t want to play his word games anymore that night.

                “Thomas Raith is your brother?” I huffed. Of course.

                “Yeah, John. You’ve somehow discovered the big secret: Thomas Raith and I are brothers. Is that all?” He laughed and shook his head, stepped forward to me.

                “Not really, I’m afraid. I know you’re quite tired, and I apologize, but tomorrow you’ll apparently be given over to your brother, and I don’t believe he likes me very much. How in the world are you and he brothers, Harry? You are not a vampire.” I smirked and twisted around to flop onto the bed, and I shimmied around until I got mostly comfortable.

                “Half-brothers. His dad was a vampire, mine was a stage magician. We’ve just got the same mom, who I got my magic from, too. Funny thing is, she gave me the godmother even though I’m the younger child. Those usually went to the eldest, or all the kids got one, or all the kids shared one, you know, all that shit.”

                “Ah. Perhaps it was because of your magic?” I shook my head.

                “Nah, she couldn’t have known about that, when I was in the womb, and she died right after I was born. Magic doesn’t usually manifest until the user is hitting puberty, unless the user suffers a traumatic experience, in which case it comes in early.” He narrowed his eyes, some, and sat down on the edge of the bed. His hand fell almost subconsciously on my own hand, and gripped. I returned to the hold with an equal level of unawareness, because it felt warm and solid and comfortable. I really shouldn’t have been talking to him when I was so damned tired, the bastard.

                “When did your magic show itself, Harry?” I yawned.

                “Somewhere between when I was six and when I was eight. Happened during a little faux Olympics thing at the school I was going to then. I was in the long jump, and I really wanted to win, for some reason. I don’t even remember why, anymore. Hell, I don’t even remember why I was in the long jump category, considering I was short for my age, back then. Still, I ended up using magic for the first time, then. Broke the long jump record by a foot, but I broke a bone, too. Still have the blue ribbon from that, though.” He laughed.

                “Is that so? What happened to you, to make it manifest so early?” I smiled, and I knew it was somewhat sad.

                “My dad died just a little while after my sixth birthday, and I got sent to an orphanage since they couldn’t find any other living family for me to go to. There probably was someone, honestly, but dad and I moved around a lot for his shows. I kind of got passed from home to home a lot, those first years. I’d never been around other kids before, and I didn’t adjust all that well. I never made many friends, and I was always a little bit off. I sucked at school work, I wasn’t very athletic, and I picked fights with the older kids. There weren’t many prospective parents that wanted to deal with me, after a while.” He nodded, and his thumb rubbed soft circles into my palm. His hand was weirdly big. I’d never noticed before.

                “You must have been permanently adopted eventually, however, correct?” I shrugged.

                “Yeah. Ten years old. A wizard, former Warden. My first Master.” My voice went cold and dim. I was willing to tell him some things, but not that. Not yet, maybe not ever, because it was my business, not his. Marcone looked curious anyway, and I saw something connecting in his eyes.

                “He is the one you killed, isn’t he? Tell me what he did, Harry. Tell me who he was.” I closed my lips tightly.

                “No. I killed him, yeah, but it’s none of your business why. He’s dead by my hand, by my magic, and I nearly died for it too. That’s all that matters anymore, John.” He curled up his lips in a banal smile.

                “Have you noticed, Harry, that you always call me by my first name when you’re attempting to appeal to me emotionally? I will do nothing with the things you tell me, sweetheart, I want you to understand that. Whatever you say will remain only with me, and as you said, he is dead. It is not as though I could do anything more to him, whether I desired to or not.” I snorted, my eyes nearly shut. His voice was a velvet baritone that was lulling me further and further down, and the soft touches of his hand weren’t helping much. Stupid, stupid hormones. I say again, please ignore that this would be making me tired no matter what, because attention like this is rare for me, and I do sort of like it, when I can get it.

                “Do I? Huh. Also, some of the people who were involved in things aren’t dead. It wasn’t a thing where it was just me and him. I was still a minor, and there was another kid living with us, too, Elaine Mallory. I thought she’d died too, for a while, but it turns out she got out. She lives on the east coast, now.”

                “Why did killing him nearly result in your death?”

                “Because I did it with magic, and that’s really illegal. It was a Council thing. I got picked up after the house finished burning, and brought to trial. My second Master spoke up for me, though, so I lived with him until I finished my training and got full Wizard status.” He pursed his lips, and patted my stomach softly. I sighed and a smile flitted unwittingly across my face for a few seconds as I relaxed even further.

                “How foolish. Please, promise me you’ll not listen to that Council of yours. It’s quite obvious it’s made up of idiots, and I do not appreciate idiots who threaten me and mine. I will not press you about what exactly that man did to you, Harry, out of respects for you, but might you tell me one last thing?” I shrugged.

                “If I can,” I mumbled, and I felt myself grab his hand and hold it against my belly to stop him from moving. He was warm, okay? Shut up.

                “You said that the Leansidhe had many rights to you, and that you did belong somewhat under Fairy law. What are those rights, and why in the world would you, a mortal, be under Fairy law?” I shifted a little and adjusted myself some more.

                “Lea’s my godmother. That means she’s got the right to have a say in who I marry, in the care of whatever kids I might have, and in a bunch of other random shit, most of which doesn’t even apply to mortals. As for why I’m somewhat under Fairy law, that’s because of a lot of the people I know. I have ties to the Summer Lady and the Summer Knight, I have an entire army of Wyldfay, I owe the Winter Queen a favor, and I have a huge shit ton of contacts among some demons and a few Sidhe. That means I have to know Fairy law almost as well as the Fairies, and that I have to follow it so I don’t inadvertently piss anything that could help me off.” He nodded.

                “Good. I’ll see you in the morning, Harry.” I nodded, and he tried to move his hand. I didn’t let him. He jerked it. I gripped it in a vice. It was cozy there, damn it. I flickered open bleary eyes.

                “Quit it. Sit. Stay.” He snorted in a shock, and then sighed with a condoning smile.

                “You’ll have to give me room to lie down, then, dear.” I recalled suddenly that he’d been using pet names on me, or my first name, all night, which was a no-no. I wiggled over to give him a spot to lie, and he took it.

                “Don’t call me that,” I mumbled belatedly, and drooped backwards against him.

                “Yes, yes,” he said, a father patronizing his child, and his hand stayed in the safety zones. Stars and Stones, no man could possibly be that polite about this! It was just… it was weird. I would’ve thought about it more, but I ended up dropping off to sleep pretty fast. The last thing I heard was something crashing against my bedroom door. I just assumed it was Mouse trying to get in and ignored it. I hadn’t ever known that Mouse could yell cuss words exactly like Thomas, though. I also didn’t know that you could feel it when someone smirks into the back of your neck. Every day is a learning experience, that’s what I always say.

* * *

 

                Thomas dragged me out of bed early the next morning, and also attempted to get into a boxing match with Marcone, but Mister stopped him with many very insistent paws to the knee. He also immediately kicked Marcone out and played dress up with me, because big brothers are dicks, just like godmothers. I would like to exchange them both for better models, if anyone is interested in a trade. He did give me pants, though, at least in a sense, but they were fucking blue plaid booty shorts, and I wanted the skirts back, because my life always manages to find a way to get somehow shittier and more stupid. I think the matching lacy bustier with the big bow on the front was worse, though, and worst of all was the murderously tight belt that wrapped around the thinnest part of my waist. Actually, never mind. The worst part was actually the damned sheer, scratchy tights that were held to my underwear (he had managed to get me a pair with the Superman symbol on the front, which I did appreciate) with two little straps. He also painted my lips with lurid red lipstick and slid a headband in my hair. I felt like a cheap pin-up model. Thomas smiled happily.

                “You’re so cute! I’m going to have so much fun with this, you know that right?” I huffed.

                “Fuck you.” He snickered wickedly.

                “Harry, that’s no language for a lady to be using.” I stuck out my lower lip in something that people with weaker minds would call the poutiest pout that’s ever been pouted, but that’s actually a cover for powerful man looks.

                “Fuck. You.” I enunciated clearly this time, just in case he hadn’t gotten the message the first time. He snorted and led me out of the bedroom. Either Marcone or Murphy wolf-whistled at me, and I’m not sure which option is more horrifying. Lea smiled.

                “Lovely work, Mr. Raith. You have a gift.” The bastard bowed, and Lea giggled sweetly as she waved us off. “Go on, then. Perhaps I shall speak with my queen this afternoon. It has now been long enough that I can possibly manage some sort of compromise with her to spare your life and your will, my Harry.” Well. It wasn’t the best chances I’d ever had, but it was sure as hell more than I’d had to start with, so I nodded.

                “Thank you, Lea. I really do appreciate all you’ve gotten done for me.” Her cool hand touched my cheek, and she kissed the other one softly. Her lips made my skin tingle and flash with frozen air, as if the flesh had inserted tiny, rapidly melting icicles just under my skin.

                “Anything for my dearest Harry. Now, shoo. Be safe. If you die now, I will be quite cross with you.” I might have giggled as we left, but no one can actually prove that, so it didn’t happen. Don’t argue, because you know you’ve used that excuse for something in your life too. Everyone has. It’s like a requirement for existing, at least I say, and everyone knows that I live a life that the world should emulate. If zombies ain’t bashing down your door, you ain’t doing life right, as far as I’m concerned.

                Actually, never mind. I might be bullshitting just a little bit. Or a lot. Okay, if zombies are bashing down your door, you’ve done something wrong, and you should probably give me a call, because we are almost certainly soul mates.

* * *

                John used the fancy rune he'd told me about to open a gateway to the real world, and I was pleased with how much neater the Ways were looking. We stepped out of the Way and into a large, glass walled office, and Murphy looked terribly annoyed, probably because she was in the headquarters of a criminal mastermind and couldn't arrest said criminal mastermind. I had to laugh a little, and Marcone smiled and took my hand.

                I probably should’ve argued more, but I just rolled my eyes and huffed. A bunch of people stared at us as we left the building, which was sort of understandable, because of my particular outfit. And Thomas complained at me about my chastity, the asshole.

                When we got outside to a car, I noticed a small, tight throng of shady guys who stared at us with a dangerous, half-mad light in their eyes. Oh, fuck. The barrier. The degrading barrier caused some crazy rage in everyone it infected, John had shown that much when it came in. If it had been able to do that to him, what had it been doing to the criminal segment of Chicago? The black sedan we all piled into (I actually got shotgun, which was pretty fucking awesome, because no one ever lets me ride in the front of their cars) took off pretty quickly towards Murphy’s house, and John was pretty quick to force her out. I couldn’t imagine why. She, being lucky, had been gifted with a nice pair of dress pants when she left this morning, since she wasn’t handmaiden-ing anymore. Sometimes I wish I could be Murphy. Or Thomas. Or anyone not named Harry, really. They don’t have to put up with these ‘adventures’.

                “Be careful, Harry,” she told me as she climbed out of the car. I nodded and smirked.

                “When am I ever anything else?” She laughed.

                “Every day that ends in Y, Harry. Call me when you get to Thomas’ place,” she said, reaching in through the window to gift me with a one-armed hug that I returned as best I could. She entered her sweet, solid hand-me-down home, the rose garden seeming to almost sparkle under the early sun as John drove off. Why was I calling him John all of a sudden anyway? What had changed between last night and now? I shrugged to myself and gazed out the window at the passing scenery, at the sidewalks and streetlights and trees that I knew as well as I knew the lines of my own palm. We pulled up to Thomas’ apartment on the Gold Coast almost too quickly, and I felt weirdly disappointed that I’d be leaving John. Thomas yanked me out of the car as fast as he could anyway, though, but John still managed to stretch forward and kiss my cheek sweetly before I was too far away.

                “I love you, Harry!” he called, and I stopped. Love? He loved me? When had that happened? Was he telling the truth? Was it because of the new body? I remembered the warmth of his hand on mine, and felt my cheek grow hot where his lips had touched. It was nice. I liked it. Thomas kicked the side of the car vindictively, and left a dent. I gave a shocked snort that mixed with a gasp as the car quickly drove off.

                “Stupid Marcone, doing the kissy-kissy and the lovey-lovey and the mushy-mushy, as if he’s got the right. The nerve of that fucking bastard,” he grumbled, and dragged me easily up the stairs. I bumped him with my shoulder as we got inside, and stuck my tongue out at him.

                “Calm down, Thomas. It’s okay, he’s just fucking with me, probably, because of the woman thing.” Thomas rolled his eyes.

                “He felt that way before the woman thing, idiot. I still don’t like him, though, fancy-suited sharp-toothed silver-tongued politician criminal bastard.” I snickered.

                “You forgot scumbag. He is certainly a scumbag.”

                “By now that’s just a pet name, dumbass,” Thomas mumbled. “Now, do you want breakfast?” I most certainly did, so he went into his mega-chromed kitchen and yanked a mismatched frozen dinner from the fridge, which was, quite suddenly, sputtering somewhat pathetically because I’d looked at it from across the room, and my magic was starting to come back to me.  We ate together, and threw bits of our food at one another, and fought teasingly and playfully for over an hour, until I almost forgot about my body, about how uncomfortable I’d been, about how much I wanted to get my real body back and make myself comfortable. I should’ve been paying attention, though.

I should always know that I should always pay attention, because if I’d been paying attention just then, I might have actually noticed the gigantic group of bulky, tall men that had been casing the apartment. I might have noticed all the extra attention they placed on Thomas’ apartment in particular. I might have noticed that they seemed particularly interested in the apartment’s one window, the one I’d claimed as my own ever since the first time Thomas invited me to come over here for a non-business meeting. If I’d noticed them, I could’ve done something about them before they became a problem. If I’d noticed those stupid assholes, I could have avoided getting kidnapped like a stupid damsel in distress that very night. I really am a big idiot sometimes, but hey, at least people still love me for being a big idiot.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

                Thomas’ apartment was dark, that night, even though moonlight filtered through the windows and sparked off the chromed surfaces of the place. It looked a little like a scene in a movie, to me, just a simple set, not lived in, not home. I liked the other places in Thomas’ apartment better, the ones no one but he and I went to, because they were messy and slovenly and fully, totally, Thomas. They were actually home, this was a showpiece. I wasn’t sure why I couldn’t sleep that night, honestly, but I figured it had something to do with the fact that I felt cold as hell for no reason, because as far as I knew, that incessant hum in the background was the central heating. I couldn’t have been sure, though, because I don’t usually get to hear hums like that for very long, thus the reason why I actually notice them when most people are so accustomed to them that they don’t recognize that they’re there. That was when the window shattered and a fuck ton of people came pouring in.

                I lunged up to my feet and reached for a staff that wasn’t there. My legs got tangled in the gown Thomas had dug out for me to sleep in, some older, comfortable thing that some girl he’d known had accidentally left here and never came back for, and I nearly tumbled to the ground. The guys laughed, and their faces were covered with dark masks, but I recognized some of them as the men I’d seen bunched together outside John’s offices earlier that day by the way their bodies were shaped, by the somewhat faded scars that were still visible on their arms, by the dangerous way they postured themselves.

                “Looks like Johnny likes ‘em clumsy,” one of them grunted, and his voice was angry, husky, closer to insane than I was comfortable with. The barrier, the barrier was in them, was messing with them, and why hadn’t Lea told me how to pull it out like she had, why did all the walls in Thomas’ apartment have to be so thick, why did he have to sleep with his door closed, why did I have to be so weak just then? I tried to call my fire and only got a few sparks and some sputters of smoke. They didn’t even notice.

                “She’s cute, though. Not the kind he’s usually after, but cute.” One of the other men snorted at that.

                “Hell, maybe we’re lucky and this one’s different. He did tell her he loves her right there in the middle of the damned street. She might be more important, really valuable to him and shit. We might be able to get him really pissed if we take her, might be able to get him stupid.” The men stepped closer to me. I tried a desperate Forzare, but nothing happened, then a Ventas Servitas, and still there was no effect. They laughed at me.

                “She not speak English or something? Damn, Johnny’s a weird one. Freaky little chick.”  One of them grabbed my, and I squirmed and tugged, attempting to get free of him, but it was kind of pointless, and I knew that from the start. I had muscle, yeah, and I sure as hell knew how to fight, but I was made of wires where this guy was built out of girders. In a fair fight, one on one, yeah, I could probably beat him because I knew where to hit, how to use my speed and my height, but like this, in the dark against ten men, without my magic, I was a sitting duck and I knew it. I screamed for Thomas, but a hand got smacked over my mouth too quickly for me to get up enough volume to actually wake my damned brother.

                “Quit your screaming, sweetie, we ain’t gonna hurt ya. Just wanna take ya somewhere safe, so Johnny can find you. Why’d Johnny leave ya here anyway, honey? Ain’t enough guards here to keep dick out. He keeps his girlfriends safe, least he always has before.” I snarled and bit the fucker’s hand. He shook me off like I was rabid or something, then punched me. The hit made my jaw ache and my lip split wide, and I was sure my face would be bruised. I spat my blood at him and tried to yell for Thomas again, but three of the guys piled onto me and covered my mouth with thick, fabric coated arms that I couldn’t bite into well enough to cause any pain that would be severe enough for them to release me. They kept me in the hold as they carried me out the window and bundled me into the back of some vehicle. The moon was still tauntingly bright overhead, but the sky was blessedly clear of the deep, gaping holes that had plagued it before.

                “Bastards,” I snarled at them. One of them snorted.

                “Oh, lookie there! She can talk!”

                “Shuddup, we ain’t trying to piss her off, we’re trying to keep her happy. If we keep her happy, there’s a better chance Johnny will actually fucking negotiate with us instead of putting bullets in our asses on sight.” I could actually almost feel the lecherous grin from somewhere in the front of the vehicle.

                “I know how to make her happy; give her what Johnny’s been giving. She’s a pretty little thing, maybe a little tall, a little bony, but she’s pretty.” I heard the sharp sound of flesh on flesh and stumbled up to my knees so I could see the front of the car.

                “You do that, you’re losing a hell of a lot more than your life when Johnny comes, and you fucking know it. We gotta keep her safe, and you fucks gotta keep your dicks where they fucking are.  Christ. Can one of you assholes try to have a civil goddamned conversation with her, maybe one where you don’t fucking mention her tits, her ass, or her legs? Like I said, if we’re nice to her, Johnny will be nicer to us. He’s gonna be pissed, yeah, but we ain’t gotta make him more pissed than necessary. All we want is our territory back, and he’d probably be willing to make that deal for the girl.” I growled. I don’t like being talked about like I’m an object, if you couldn’t tell, don’t like being treated as if I’m a thing, a creature without ears or eyes or thoughts of my own. I am autonomous, as I repeatedly state, but it seems like no one ever believes me. The world is one collective dick, if you didn’t know.

                “How about you guys stop talking about me like I can’t hear every damned word you’re saying? Why the hell do you think kidnapping me will piss John off anyway?” Damn it. I called him John again, fuck. This would probably not help my argument. They snorted, almost in complete unison. Huh. Maybe they should drop the mobster gig and start a boy band. Big Bad Tommy and the Bludgeoners. Did they know what the word ‘bludgeon’ meant? Probably not. Big Bad Tommy and the People Who Beat Others with Blunt Objects like Baseball Bats then. Yeah. That was good. Gold, I tell you. If you take that band name, which you obviously will, then you owe me royalties.

                “Johnny don’t tell people he loves ‘em for nothing, honey. He yelled it to you. You’re something special.” Yeah, I was special alright. Hell, I’d nearly destroyed the entire world about forty eight hours ago. It takes a special kind of person to do that. Also, I’d literally been turned into the wrong gender, which apparently caused a mobster to become attracted to me for no particular reason, considering I wasn’t staying this way. I scratched my head.

                “He’s a liar, though, you should know that. And the situation with us is kind of weird.”

                “Johnny’s a lot of things, sweetheart, but he sure as hell ain’t a liar. Come on, honey, we know you and him are together, there ain’t no point in denying it, cause we know. Like I said, we ain’t gonna hurt ya, but we are gonna take ya with us, so we can get what we want outta him.” I huffed and glared, which probably also didn’t help my case much, but still. These guys were obviously refusing to listen to reason and believe that John was just my friendly neighborhood mobster rather than my friendly neighborhood mobster boyfriend. Huh… maybe if I played along? I’d always figured that John would be pretty protective of anyone he let in his bed, and Helen was kind of a case in point, considering she could nearly kill the fucker and he still didn’t want anything to happen to her. He wouldn’t take well to anyone kidnapping those people he cared that much about.

                “Alright, you got me, I guess. John and I are together. I was just trying to get you to let me go, but to be honest, it was more for your safety than mine. I don’t really care about me, never have, because I know I can look after myself, but John isn’t going to be happy, and he’s dangerous as hell when he’s not happy. He won’t hesitate to hurt you guys, to make your lives into a total hell. He’s got power, and he knows how to use it.” One of the men laughed.

                “Damn, never thought one of Johnny’s girls would actually know what he was. Most of ‘em don’t seem to find out who they’re in bed with ‘til something bad happens to ‘em. He let you in on the secret, baby doll? Or are you just a nosy little thing, digging into his business.” I really did have to laugh.

                “Who the hell could live in Chicago and not know who John is? Fuck, everyone knew the day he took down Vargassi, at least if they lived here at that time, and even those who didn’t could read the damned paper and find out what he’s really involved in.” One of the men pulled off his mask so he could look at me through the rearview mirror and smirk. His face looked like it was cut out of granite, pitted and scarred, and his eyes were bright with the barrier’s influence. Holy shit, this was a lot more dangerous than I’d thought. I couldn’t piss these guys off, because even if they were saying they didn’t want to hurt me, they weren’t totally in control of themselves. I snapped my fingers and finally got a decent number of sparks out of it. Good. As soon as I could get somewhere not a moving vehicle, I could probably get free. If I’d been at full power, I could’ve just melted a hole in the back door and rolled my way out, but no, I had to be pretty much tapped out with more magical suppressants in me than blood, at least the way Marcone seemed to be telling it to begin with.

                “Some people don’t wanna think the man they’re dating is a killer, and sometimes Johnny don’t want ‘em to think it neither. Only the ones he wants to keep get to find out, unless they’re smart. Are you just smart, honey, or does he want to keep you? Hell, might be both.” I sighed.

                “Look, you fucks were obviously hanging around yesterday, right? I recognize some of you from where you were standing around outside John’s office.” They looked a little shocked, and I allowed myself a sharp grin. I was sure it didn’t have nearly as much of an effect as it would have if I’d had my own face. “Yeah, I’m smart. I’m observant, kind of have to be. I moved to Chicago on my eighteenth birthday, and I’ve lived here since. This is my city. I know what happens in my city.” They guy who’d taken his mask off laughed.

                “Man, I like this chick! Johnny’s got himself a nice one, this time, she ain’t like them bimbos. Wouldn’t mind having a girl like this to go home to myself. Sure as hell wouldn’t pawn her off to some pretty boy fucker like Johnny did. She’s like some kind of heaven-sent girl, ain’t she? Pretty face, hot body, and a brain on top of it.” I kind of wondered who the hell he was talking about, because Stars and Stones, it wasn’t me. Maybe he and John had both breathed the same bad air. I was no more attractive like this than I was as a man, and I knew that I hadn’t ever been a Casanova by any stretch of the imagination. I snorted.

                “Yeah, I’m a pretty little flower. Hell’s Bells, man, I don’t think complimenting me is going to make me want to be your bestest friend, especially when you’re not telling the truth anyway. Jeez, just let me go home so I can go to bed.”

                “Careful, sweetheart, or someone might think Johnny ain’t treating you right, ain’t telling you what a pretty little piece you are every damned day.” I laughed again.               

                “If anyone, mobster or not, tried that kind of thing on me, I’d kick them in the balls. I’m not so self-conscious that I need someone to tell me how pretty I am every five minutes, and it’s kind of offensive that people think I do.” I knew well enough how I looked, whether I had mirrors around or not. I had seen my face before, and I knew what it was. Too sharp and bony, with a mouth like a knife wound and a tongue that served as the knife. Pale enough that I looked like I’d never seen the sun, even though I’d worked on a damned farm for two years. I hadn’t even managed to pick up much of a tan back then, goddamn. I had hair the color of mud and eyes like coals, a scar on my upper lip and another on my eyebrow, and a good growth of stubble that cropped up every time I forgot to shave one morning. I was made of harsh lines and sharp angles, unwelcoming. That wasn’t a recipe for pretty. Pretty was Thomas, pretty was Murphy, pretty was Susan. Pretty was not Harry Dresden, whether male or female.

                “Special kind of girl, honey.” No one spoke to me after that, even though I tried to get them to talk, even though I was as obnoxious and defiant as I’d ever been before, and I couldn’t help but think they were doing it on purpose, doing it to throw me off balance. I’m an asshole when I don’t have to upper hand, because it gives me some kind of control. It lets me be the one in power, even if I’m really forty steps behind with a gun trained on me. In situations like this, I fight because giving up, letting someone else have the reigns, isn’t an option. They weren’t giving me my choice, and it was pissing me off.

                They pulled up to a two story house, old and rare and wooden, hidden away on the outskirts of town. They dragged me inside and threw me onto a couch as if I was a ragdoll, then tied my hands and my ankles with belts. I hissed and snarled and snapped, every noise backed with the flashing of teeth, but they just seemed to think it was adorable. I wondered if this was how Murphy was at times forced to feel, a woman in a profession filled with me, a lot of whom probably disliked and resented her because she could kick their ass without effort, because she was an amazing cop who had the gall to be able to take down crooks without having a penis. She probably had felt that way before, honestly, but I was pretty sure that by now she was having a better go of it, at least in SI. The cops under her respected her there, in a way most people hadn’t in CPD. I wondered if there was a way to make these assholes respect me. Probably not.

                 “You two keep an eye on Twiggy over there. We’ll take shifts. I’m going to go call Johnny, tell him where his girl is, let him know what we want. The rest of you, go eat or rest or something.” Twiggy? What the fuck. Bastards.

                “Twiggy?” I hissed. The men that were in the room with me still, one of them being the guy without his mask on, shrugged.

                “We don’t know your name, honey. Would you rather we called you Leggy? That fits too, sweetheart.” I rolled my eyes even though chances were only one of them could see it.

                “My name is Harry, fucker.” The one with the visible face raised his eyebrows.

                “Harry?” I nodded.

                “Yeah. Harry. Got a problem with that?”

                “Is it short for Harriet or something?” I shook my head.

                “Nope. Just Harry. My name is Harry, always has been. My dad named me that, after Harry Houdini. Think you guys would be willing to tell me who you’re working for?” They laughed.

                “You really are a weird girl, honey. I guess it won’t do no harm to tell you why we’re doing this, though, who we’re doing it for. Smart girl like you, you probably know our Boss anyway. Torelli, you ever heard of him? He wants his old territory back.” I sighed. Torelli again? Christ. How in the world was he even still alive? I figured John would’ve taken him out by now, after he ended up inadvertently taking the fall for Helen after the Denarians kidnapped John. Maybe John had figured out what actually happened and given him a free pass. Whatever. Not my problem right now. Oh, holy shit, what if Torelli came here? He and I had met before, what if he recognized me? He’d probably be pretty suspicious if he suddenly met a girl who looked almost exactly like that one weird, tall, skinny guy who’d nearly killed him that one time.      

                “Shit. He and I have met before, and we aren’t bestest buddies. Is he, uh, coming here?” The man shook his head.

                “He’s too busy to be around every damned time we take a hostage, sweetheart, don’t worry about it. What, did he try to poach you off of Johnny or something? Not getting you would probably piss him off. He’s got a girl now, though; probably wouldn’t care much even if he did see you.” And now I had some random mobster with a face like a rock that’d lost a fight with a cruise ship trying to fix my relationship with another mobster who ran me off the road and attempted to kill me twice. Perfect. How could my life possible get any better, I ask you?

                “It wasn’t that. I might have interfered in a business plan, a little. I looked a teensy weensy bit different then, though, so hey, maybe he wouldn’t remember me.” The guy raised his eyebrows and sat beside me on the couch. Maybe he had a problem with just one too, like I did. With him distracted, I mumbled ‘flickum bicus lightly and summoned the sparks back to my fingertips, slowly, slowly, slowly burning through the leather belt. The smell of it was somewhat harsh, but they, through what I can only assume was sheer force of will, didn’t seem to notice.

                “You seem like the kind of girl that wouldn’t change her look all that often. Nice choice with the shorts yesterday, by the way. Looked real nice on you.” I hated Thomas. Like, really, really, really hated Thomas. Thomas was a piece of shit. If he wasn’t my brother, I’d kill the bastard. Literally. And completely. He’d get so many stakes in his chest. In fact, I would take a stake from every single vampire Buffy ever slew, and I would put that stake into Thomas. And then he would die, and I would do a super happy dance around his corpse so that everyone would finally know for sure that I really am totally insane. Yeah. Sounds like a dream to me. Cough cough hack wheeze.

                “Someone else picked those. I wear jeans and t-shirts. And my hair was longer, then. I just cut it a few weeks ago.” I can lie when it’s not important, you see. I haven’t cut my hair in nearly a year, at least. I look like a sheepdog. He nodded, as if a different haircut would really make me look all that different. The guy who said he’d make the phone call walked back in, his mask off now too. He wore a scruffy beard that did little to hide the roundness of his face, the fact that he looked like he still had some baby fat on him.

                “Johnny is pissed.” He also looked terrified. I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or comfort the guy. Mr. Maskless flinched, which was quite surprising in no way whatsoever. When John is pissed, people seem to win tickets to the Great Beyond. Not that anyone can prove that, though. Because John is just a simple, _totally legitimate_ businessman who pays his taxes and everything. I snorted.

                “How pissed?” my rock-faced companion questioned, and his fingers tapped worriedly against his upper leg. The belt around my wrists burnt through, but it probably wasn’t the best time for me to flee, so I kept my hands behind me. I did stretch my fingers some, though, because damn it, that position did hurt. The man pulled out a little tape recorder and sat it on the crappy, mostly broken down coffee table that perched on the debris laden floor, legs uneven and wobbly. I slipped away from it a little as he hit the play button, but the audio still crackled and snapped, some.

                “Hello?” I heard John’s voice easily, even if it was distorted.

                “This Marcone?” the man who’d called asked. I could almost see John’s body flash to alert wakefulness, his bright money eyes glistening darkly.

                “Yes. And you are Torelli’s right hand. What have you done, hm? You’d not be calling me if you hadn’t made some type of move.”

                “We’ve got your little girlfriend with us, Johnny, the cute brunette you were with earlier. The one you said you loved, remember? Really is a cute doll faced thing, such a sweetheart. Hasn’t given us a bit of trouble, you know. One of my guys really likes her.” Wow. John and I might not actually be dating, but goddamn. He’d get pissed if anyone was in my situation getting talked about like that. This guy was almost as stupid as Torelli himself. I heard John’s low, husky, deadly snarl, and my heart twitched in my chest. Huh. This room was weirdly warm all of a sudden.

                “Tell me where you are. I will go there and I will retrieve Harry. You will let me do so without complaint or opposition, or I will kill you.” The words weren’t questions. They weren’t even demands. They were statements. Once more it was proven to me that John was a man with power, a man who was used to being obeyed. The man who had made the call laughed, but even I could hear the weakness, the fear behind it.

                “Nah, I don’t think so. You’re gonna listen to us this time, Johnny, or that girl ain’t gonna get returned how you left her. Might be missed something, what do you think? Like I said, my guys like her. There ain’t nothing about her stopping us from making her ours instead of yours, Johnny, not a damn thing but a flimsy little nightgown. If you listen, though, she’ll get returned to you just exactly how you left her. Torelli wants the territory you took from him back.” John, being John, honed in on the man’s fear and precision cut through whatever armor was left.

                “You cannot make demands of me, I fear. You do know Mr. Hendricks and Ms. Gard, do you not? You have, of course, heard of what they are capable of doing, under my orders. I am capable of far worse, especially towards those who I consider mine. Harry would never admit to belonging to me, but,” here he paused for a split second, probably thinking about what pronoun to use before deciding on the one that would result in fewer questions, “she does. She is mine, the one I love. Mine. If you have her, I will find you whether you tell me where you are or not, but if I must seek you out, I swear that I will make you wish you were dead. I will make you beg for the release of it, and you will never, ever receive it, not until I feel your debt has been paid.” I choked a little. John was calling me his. Again. This new gender thing I’m trying out is really having a funny effect on him. He’s almost acting like we really do have a… thing. And he’s threatening to torture people for me. And he’s saying he loves me again. People don’t just _do_ that. I’d have scratched my head if that wouldn’t have given the fact that I was free away.

                “No,” the man said, and then I could hear where he hung up. He was an idiot, Christ. I really needed to get out of here so I could save the collective ass of these morons. Sometimes I really do display nigh on saint like qualities, and they really don’t get enough appreciation. I slipped my hands out from behind my back and the burnt belt thumped sadly to the ground. They all reeled back with sudden, completely unjustified horror.

                “Holy shit,” said Maskless, “Where the fuck did you hide matches, honey?” I snorted.

                “It’s magic.” See, the best lies are the ones that aren’t actually lies. People really should believe me when I say that. Maybe they would’ve if they knew that I was actually the famous Harry Dresden, the only Wizard in the phonebook, and that I was only a little bit insane to boot. I got my ankles undone while they were staring in shock, and thought for a second that I’d just get to run right out the door, but then I got slammed into the wall directly beside the door. I sighed. The man behind me was twice my size and felt as if he was made of a chalk outline on concrete.

                “Search her,” one of them said, but I’m not sure which. Giant hands started pawing at me, fingers peeking under the line of my underwear, as if was dumb enough to hold matches where they could get broken so easily. I growled and snarled the whole time, and one of them asked if I was this uncooperative when Johnny was doing this. I told him in no uncertain terms that I would really appreciate it if he went and fucked himself with a thirty foot long iron rod. For forever.

                “I can’t find nothing.”

                “Well it ain’t like she fucking ate them, man,” the other hissed. I saw the barrier in them again, pulsing in their blood, black, murky shadows polluting their thoughts with wild, unharnessed darkness. The man flipped me around and tossed me back down on the couch, and I went willingly enough, because I could fight, yeah, but not with my arms and my legs pinned, and he didn’t react no matter how many times I kneed him in the groin, since I couldn’t get enough leverage to land a solid, hard hit.

                “Where you hiding the matches, sweetheart?” I smiled sweetly and squirmed around to let my hands settle on his biceps. He went wide eyed, stared at me like I was crazy, and his chest started to rise and fall faster. Was he… no. John was obviously the only one that’s dumb enough to get a crush on me when I’m like this. I let my palms heat up, and he just kept staring at me. Then the fucker kissed me. I squealed, I’ll admit it, but you would too if that guy was suddenly all piled up in your personal space. Still, he let go of my arms in order to hold my cheeks, my jaw, so I was free to attempt to attack him. My punches went wide, though, because I couldn’t fucking see, and his lower body was pinning my legs. The other men in the room were yelling for him to get off me, yelling that Johnny would kill him, and his mouth tasted bitter, like stale coffee without a single grain of sugar. His lips were as solid and cold and unyielding and harsh as the rock that I’d compared his face to. The front door of the shitty, broken house crashed open, and I heard John’s unique growl, heard Thomas’ hiss, heard the sound of a gun cocking. Maskless didn’t get off. I wiggled and squirmed and tried to kick and punch and I wished I could use my magic, but I didn’t want to kill the guy, and I was in no shape for delicate workings just then, weak as I still was. He was hauled off of me suddenly and thrown to the floor, and I caught sight of the arm of a pinstripe suit.

                Thomas helped me sit up, my ribs aching from the man’s weight, and I saw that his skin was gleaming. John was going wild on Maskless’ face, letting loose perfectly formed punches with all the grace of a tiger and the rage of a street fighter. I heard the sticky crunch of flesh to flesh, flesh to bone, and I stumbled up to my feet. When I saw John’s face, I can admit that I was shocked. I could hardly even recognize him, he was so twisted with anger. His upper lip was high to bare white, sharp, glinting teeth, the lines of his face deepened to harsh cuts in his skin. It was hard to believe that anyone could call this man the Gentleman, this bestial visage of humanity, and I thought that I might’ve finally glimpsed what was in that dark corner of his soul he wouldn’t let me see. No one else seemed able to move, not even Thomas, really. My hand fell on his shoulder, and he whipped around to look at me. His knuckles were red, but the blood wasn’t his. Maskless was dazed on the ground, his watery eyes hazed. I saw something black dripping from the wounds alongside the blood, the barrier escaping a vessel it now saw as too weak.

                “Stop, John,” I said, and a deep breath entered his lungs. And he stopped. He stood up, brushed off his suit, and stopped. I almost couldn’t believe it.

                “Did I upset you? I apologize. I hadn’t been… that wasn’t the plan. I simply saw him on top of you, and you were trying to get away, and… I do apologize. I’m certain you had the situation in hand.” The words sounded a little pained, and he was stuttering and pausing and not as in control of his words as he usually was, meaning I was pretty sure he was having a minor panic attack, and the words were causing him actual physical pain. I had to laugh, a little.

                “It’s fine. He was heavy, and I didn’t want to use my you-know-what on him. I don’t want him dead, John, none of them. They didn’t hurt me.” The men were staring at me.

                “You got him primed and ready, and you don’t want to aim him at us?” asked the man who I figured was the leader, the one who made the phone call.

                “Not really. Destroy that tape you made, though, of the phone call. Don’t know why you made it in the first damned place, but hey. You don’t need it. Let me watch you break it.” He snatched the recorder off the table, dropped it on the ground, and stomped on it. I nodded. “Groovy.” Thomas shook his head.

                “Harry. They kidnapped you out of my house. People who kidnap you don’t usually get off this easy.” I smirked.

                “I’m pretty much drained dry, Thomas. I was lucky to burn through that belt over there. I don’t think I could manage all that much else at the moment, besides maybe a couple of big showpieces, since those don’t take all that much power or concentration. Also, I say again, they didn’t hurt me. They were perfectly polite, beyond what the degrading barrier caused. Which reminds me. Can one of you, like, come over here or something? For a couple of minutes?”

                “I ain’t going near Johnny,” all of them but Maskless, who was as close to unconscious as someone can be without being unconscious, said. I snorted and crouched down to Maskless, settled my hand on the center of his chest. I chanted a couple of nonsense words that vaguely described what I wanted to do, and suddenly my hand closed around something solid and writing. I pulled it out, and got myself my very own wiggly black ball of goo. I gazed at it with disgust, and summoned a tiny touch of fire. It actually screamed and burned. The men stared at me. John was grinning, full of pride, as if he’d been the one to do the little trick.

                “She wasn’t kidding.”

                “Magic.” The whispers were loud. I started de-barrier-ing all of them while they stared at me, but John’s hand was twitching convulsively through it all, as if he wanted a knife. The men sort of slumped against walls once I removed the barrier’s influence from them and burned the pieces, and then we left, but not before John tossed out a final statement.

                “I told you I’d kill you, and it’s quite obvious that I cannot do it now, as it would upset Harry. Do not think, however, that you’re getting away with this.” He obviously hadn’t said it for me, hadn’t thought I could hear, but I’ve got wizard ears, which are rather impressive. Thomas shoved me into the back of a dark sedan before I could say anything in reply, which obviously meant he’d heard it too, and knew I’d heard it, and knew I’d be upset, and knew that actually he’d rather that John got to execute his particular brand of justice. Bastards, the lot of them. Still, as soon as the car got started, as soon as I heard the soft rumble of the engine, the grinding of the wheels on asphalt, I ended up falling asleep.

* * *

 

                I woke up curled in John’s arms, my head burrowed in his chest, his hand draped across my middle and rubbing sweet circles into my spine. I blinked. Something was off here, but I couldn’t place what. My bleary eyes finally bothered to look at his face, which had gone soft and mushy and he was smiling like he didn’t have a care in the whole damned world.

                “Good morning,” he said sweetly.

                “You threatened to kill people last night,” I stated. He laughed quietly.

                “Did I? How are you?” I sighed.

                “Dumbass. You know you did. They don’t deserve death for what they did, John. Christ. You’ve come close to kidnapping me before too. If you go after anyone, go after Torelli.” His eyes were solid emerald chips, cold and warm at the same damned time, because he’s an impressive motherfucker.

                “I would have never done what that man did, not to you, never to you. Perhaps they do not deserve death, Harry, but they deserve something, some punishment. I was speaking in anger last night, I will admit to that, but I will have some sort of vengeance against them. You may fight and complain about it all you wish, but you are one of mine. I protect my own, and when they are harmed, I take it quite personally. The fact that I feel the way I do about you only makes the rage I feel more hot.” I sighed.

                “John. I’ve explained this already. The female parts aren’t permanent.” He laughed, laud and raucous and free and human, a contrast to that man I’d seen last night.

                “It’s not the fact that you’re currently a woman, Harry, although perhaps I have taken the opportunity to make my affection towards you a bit more obvious. I love you for yourself, man or woman. I do not care about your gender. I love you. I love Harry Dresden, and if Harry Dresden is a man, then so be it. I’d say the same if you were truly a woman.” I stared at him. What did I think about this? I wasn’t sure. It was… it was something, alright. It was strange. But was it unwelcome? I wasn’t sure. How had I been feeling all this time? How had I felt the first time he’d said he loved me? Shocked, definitely. Surprised, confused, but not upset. Not once had I been angry with him for that. Was I happy, though? Did I like the idea of it? I wasn’t sure. I couldn’t tell. It went against almost everything I held dear, my vaulted morals, the things that I’d long held were the only things keeping me from becoming the monster everyone expected me to be. But I liked John Marcone. I didn’t like admitting to that, but I did. He was a good man who did horrible, deadly things, a man with principles he wouldn’t compromise, things he did because someone had to. I didn’t like admitting that someone had to be on top of the criminal clusterfuck. I didn’t like admitting that John Marcone had made things a hell of a lot better. I didn’t like admitting that if John was suddenly not around, a lot of things would go right to shit. Hell’s Bells. John was a necessary evil who had never quite been evil. He was an enemy that was usually an ally, and enemy who claimed to love me. He’d protected me. He’d begged me to let him protect me countless times. He was… I liked him. Stars and Stones, but I liked him. But did I love him? I still didn’t know. I stretched up (god, but is that weird. I wished we were standing, for a second, so I could bend instead of stretching) and I kissed him.

                His lips were warm and a little chapped, but he was gentle with me, too gentle, almost like he thought I’d break. His fingers slid up, one hand on my cheek, palms fire hot and gun calloused. The whole thing felt surreal. He rolled over to perch on top of me, one of his legs insinuated between mine, and my chest heaved up against his. His tongue peeked out to lick the seam of my lips, and hey, I’d started this kiss, what the hell happened? I buried my fingers in his hair to pull him down harder against me, and clenched my free hand into the back of his suit jacket. I had the irrational hope that I’d wrinkle it, damage it somehow, because fucking up his shit is really, really fun, because it makes him react, makes him human like little else does. He raised his head and kissed the corner of my lips, my cheek, my jaw, down my neck, my collar bone. I could feel something hard against my thigh, close to my hip bone. I was hot, felt myself quivering, and I tried to grab him, pull him closer, get him to do something other than place the infuriating, feather light kisses, but he rolled away, shaking his head, panting. I sat up on my elbows.

                “Stones, John, what?” He rubbed his temples.

                “I swear to you that I never thought I’d say this to you if you were offering me this, but no. I don’t… the first time I’m with you, I want you to be fully yourself. Like this… you would not be happy. You’d call it a side effect of that body. I’m not going to let you do that. This is likely the only chance I’ll get. I’m not wasting it.” I stared at him, and for some reason, I was cursing Lea in my head, and doing so loudly. I wanted him. I wanted. I hadn’t felt like this in a while, not since the weird thing with Luccio, and I wanted. I wanted him. I wanted something. I wanted to touch, to make someone happy and give them pleasure, to have them give me the same. It had been a long damned time. I liked John. John was… I wanted to try this. I wanted to see if I loved him, I wanted to see if he was telling me the truth. I was about to say something else, about to tell him all of that, all of what I’d been thinking, when a swirl of mist appeared in the air, and then hey, there was Lea. Of course. At least it wasn’t Thomas. Or Murphy. Oh god, if it had been Murphy. I shuddered at the mere thought, and wondered how far away John’s balls would be by now, if she ever had any idea of what had just happened.

                “Lea. This is really bad timing.” She cocked her head sweetly, and smiled a girlish, innocent smile.

                “La. This is not the time for consummation, godson. You are going quite out of order.” John cleared his throat.

                “There was not going to be any consummating. Change him back, and then that will change. Quite rapidly.” Lea laughed.

                “While I find your enthusiasm amusing, now is not the time. My Queen wishes to speak with you, godson. More accurately, she wishes to fight.” Oh shit. There are no other words for that. I was going to fight the Winter Queen, the Queen of Air and Darkness, fucking Mab, the Mab from the stories. Stars and Hell’s Bells fucking shit goddamn motherfucking Stones.  


	5. Chapter 5

                “Yeah, I don’t think so. I’m not fighting one of the most powerful beings in the entirety of Fairy, thanks. I’m glad you thought to offer, though. Real sweet of you.” Lea threw her head back and laughed, wild and free and innocent in the loosest sense, a goddess of blood and death and pain masquerading as an angel. I stepped a little away from her, somewhat, my feet clumsy and lazy and my body not responding as well as it should’ve been.

                “I’m afraid neither you nor myself have much of a choice in the matter, dearest godson. I swear to you that if I had any choice in this matter, I would cloister you away until her rage settled, but as it stands, she feels that she has been slighted, and wishes to settle the matter. You, of course, have been allowed as many companions as you desire, though I myself cannot participate in the battle. I have also been permitted to restore you to your full strength.” Fairies can’t lie, even though they can twist the truth around until it’s worse than false, but I couldn’t see any way she could be misleading me. She didn’t want to do this, but she had to. She and I were both pawns in whatever game Mab was orchestrating now, and neither of us liked it, but neither of us could fight it. Free will is kind of a funny thing, or at least I’ve always thought. You’ve always got it, always, but there’s also always someone bigger than you, someone stronger than you, poised to take it away, or bend it around until it’s meaningless anyway. Lea is a goddess, and Mab is too, it’s just that Mab is kind of the Hera to Lea’s Athena. They’re both all powerful, yeah, they could both fuck some shit up bad, but at the end of the day, Lea will always bow down to Mab.

                “I’m going to guess she thinks I’ve got a shot at winning with you on my side?”

                “My Queen makes the rules, Godson, and her games are rarely entertaining to anyone but herself. I am allowed to gift you with clothing to wear, things that will afford you some protection. I shall grant the same gift to your allies, of course, once you inform me of who you desire to bring.” I was about to say no one, but John spoke up.

                “I will, of course, be coming. My bodyguards Gard and Hendricks will be coming along. His brother, Thomas, though I personally dislike him. He’d be quite the asset on the battlefield, you see, if he was used correctly. Ms. Murphy would be a capable ally, as well, given the proper equipment. Iron bullets, certainly, or bullets with iron in them. I believe I have a store of them, and certainly some of them would fit her weapons. If not, I’ve some of those she could use as well. My men, obviously, and I should have a few favors I could call in to get more. Have you any other suggestions, Harry? Perhaps the remaining Knight of the Cross? Ah, yes, I could call in some sword users as well, from Gard. She knows very many that are capable with a blade.” I stared.

                “John, no one is coming with me. I’m not putting other people at risk, especially not that many other people.” He rolled his eyes at me and then proceeded to pretend that I was not there.

                “He means that he agrees with everything I’ve just said.” Lea laughed with mirth that could almost actually be called genuine.

                “Quite. I’ll get to work on it. First, however…” she waved a hand, and there I stood in… was I even wearing anything? I wasn’t quite sure. I was in a pair of tiny crimson shorts (I guessed she’d taken a liking to Thomas’ style), with a half skirt covering my right leg. My other thigh, which was bare but for the sheer stockings, was decorated with a little holster for my blasting rod. The bra top thing I was wearing was hooked to the bottom parts with thin straps that also connected to the thick collar around my neck. Beyond that, and the things that could hardly be called sleeves that crossed over the top of the top and over my shoulders, I was pretty much bare. My hair had been piled into a small bun-thing on the crown of my head. How the hell was this supposed to protect me, like, at all? This actually seemed less protective than the gown I was in before. I sort of wanted the feathery thing back. At least then I’d have some plumage to defend me from the cold. I did like the boots, though, thick leather things that went up to my knees. I was actually sort of considering keeping them. John was gaping. People had been gaping around me a lot, lately.

                “Lea. I don’t think this is going to help.” She smiled.

                “That clothing is highly enchanted, Godson. Even on the areas where no fabric touches your flesh, you have defense as strong as dragon’s bone. You see?” a knife appeared in her hand, and she settled the tip of it on my belly, right on top of the faded scar I’d received on the floor of the museum, when one of my various enemies attempted to disembowel me. She pressed it in until the skin was dimpled, and I expected to see a crimson bead of blood, but there was nothing. The skin stayed whole and clear. John continued to stare, as if he was frozen where he stood. Lea pressed harder. My mind flashed back to my training with her, to the blood I’d spilled. I hardly felt a tickle, even when she pressed the blade forward hard enough that it should’ve been buried in my guts. She pulled it away. This skin still looked totally normal. Hot damn. Finally, John hissed.

                “How… how dare you take a knife to him?” I sighed. Not this old song and dance again; he was getting a little freaky about this. I rolled my eyes at him and crossed my arms.

                “I’m fine, John. She was proving the point that I would be.” His eyes flashed with something, and I saw the bright glint of something that was probably sharp and deadly in his sleeve. I rolled my eyes.

                “If you need something like that checked, Harry, you ask me. I cannot be certain that anyone else won’t harm you, whether purposefully or inadvertently.” I snickered.

                “Aw, you can take a knife to me too, if you want to check it out and make sure I really won’t start spouting blood.” He reeled away from me like I’d hit him, like I’d said something awful and terrible and biting, something that struck him right in the heart and dug in like a splinter.

                “Harry, do _not_ simply say things like that. It is not good for anyone involved.” His face, pained and somewhat flushed, with eyes that were mostly pupil with a thin circle of green around them. I didn’t like it. I had never known how reassuring that iron control of his was, but when it wasn’t there, it was as if I was adrift, floating off on nothing to a world I didn’t recognize. I nodded.

                “Yeah. Sorry.” I coughed, cleared my throat. “Think I can keep these boots when we’re done, Lea?” She smirked.

                “You may keep the whole outfit, dear one. Your One seems to enjoy it.” I laughed.

                “I don’t think this would look as good when I don’t have the bouncy bits on my chest.”

                “I’ll modify it somewhat, of course.” This wasn’t a normal conversation to have, and I want everyone to know that I don’t approve of it. It’s… I don’t even know what to call this shit. I wondered if I could manage to kick Lea and run. As if I could hide from what was currently going on, holy shit. I was about to go fight Winter. The entire essence of Winter. I’d be lucky if I just got hypothermia from this encounter, Hell’s Bells. I had to sit down, because yeah, sometimes it takes a little while for these things to become fully apparent to me. Lea strode over to John and touched his shoulder. His business suit was replaced with a panoply of armor, the medieval kind that Michael used to wear, but I had the feeling that what John was currently wearing was a little better than that, even without the layer of Kevlar.

                He moved in it perfectly, so I figured it was probably impossibly light, and the rose that had been emblazoned on the chest sparkled as if it was really alive, an actual rose in an actual garden, covered in dew drops and blooming to the sight of the early sun. He blinked as if he thought I was the only one Lea could play dress up with at will. Good. Served him right. A sword was slung on one side of his hips, and a pistol on the other. A third weapon, this one some kind of assault rifle, was strapped to his back. A pouch that I assumed contained ammo was hooked to his left thigh in easy reach of his hand. So. John gets to be a literal knight in shining armor, and what the hell was I? Maybe some kind of badass action heroine, like Buffy. Buffy was super cool. I wouldn’t mind being Buffy, so yeah, I was Buffy. Maybe. If I was lucky. Chances were I’d been modeled after some kind of damsel that only pretended to be an action heroine and was actually only there to get kidnapped and be all dramatic. Stupid Lea.

                He stared down at himself for a second, then smirked, wild and animal sharp. He tested his movements, for a few minutes, and even drew the sword from its sheath as if testing its weight. He tossed it from hand to hand like he would one of his own little knives.

                “You altered my knife?” She nodded. How the hell did he… never mind. Obviously the mind of John Marcone is not one a mere mortal such as myself is privy to understanding.

                “Of course. I, as one of the Sidhe, cannot create cold iron, but something that is already made of iron… I cannot touch it, but I can change it to another form.” He flashed his tiger grin again.

                “Lovely. And the armor?”

                “Very powerful alloy, used in all fairy armor. It is inlaid with the most powerful protective wards I know, just as my Harry’s clothing is. The rose has a small store of magic; if you are ever in a bit of a tight situation, you can tap into it and use a spell, as I have already primed it. There is enough there to perform a single very powerful evocation, hopefully one that could clear all enemies in your immediate radius. Merely will the spell to happen, and it shall.”

                “You’ve already shaped it, then?” She nodded.

                “Indeed, as I said. It is cold magic, of course, but it should serve your purposes well enough. Do try not to waste it, and take care of my godson. I shall gather the party you requested.” And then she swept out of the room. I say she and John should have a Who Can Leave a Room Most Disconcertingly contest. I’d actually be interested in the outcome. It was silent for a few seconds.

                “Cold magic?” John finally questioned. I gasped at the suddenness of his voice and whipped around to face him again. The half-skirt teased my ankles with feather touches.

                “Huh? Oh, yeah. She probably meant Winter magic. Winter is cold, Summer is warm and all that. I’d have given you Summer, myself, but then I use Summer magic, so I’m probably biased. I guess it’s easier to set something like that up if you’re using magic you know to do it. She might’ve meant that it was bad magic, though, like dark stuff.” It looked like I’d confused him some more. I don’t know why that gratified me so much.

                “What in the world does cold have to do with dark magic, Harry?” I grinned. I liked explaining magic and fairies and all that other stuff to people, when I was allowed.

                “Fairies don’t think of good and bad like we do; to them, the word ‘warm’ means good, and ‘cold’ means bad. Or, at least it does with the wyldfay. I don’t know if that extends to the higher ones, like the Sidhe, too, so I can’t be sure of exactly what she meant. Either way, be careful with that. Pure fairy magic is some dangerous stuff, and it’s been known to turn on its user when a mortal attempts it. That’s why I don’t play around with it all that much, at least no more than I have to.” He nodded.

                “Your fire spell is fairy magic, I take?” I laughed.

                “Oh, hell no. It’s pure human. It draws on an element controlled by one Court of the fay, yeah, but all magic does. Fire and Earth for Summer, Water or ice and Air for Winter. Fairy fire spells, though… they’re even more brutal than mine. It’s pure heat, the essence of fire. See, my fire spells work by drawing heat from stuff around me, that’s why the air will get cold when I use them, or why the water near me will freeze. Fairy fire is different, I don’t even really know what happens. I think it’s a little similar to what angels do; they draw it from within them.” He nodded.

                “But you have had to use fairy magic before?” I winced.

                “Yeah. Part of a purity thing I had to do. Fairy magic is about as pure as you can get without literally tapping into the forces of creation, so… yeah. I pulled off some fairy wind, to get the spell started, but that’s the most I’ve ever attempted.”

                “Purity thing, Harry? You’re making little sense.” I snorted out a sharp laugh, and moved to sit on the bed again.

                “Sorry. Yeah. Some spells, the ritual ones, mostly, require the caster to be totally cleansed, body and mind. It usually takes about a week, if you want to do it right, but I was on a deadline then, so I just took a shower and dried myself with that. Sure as hell wasn’t my best work, but I got it all done, so it was fine.” He seemed interested, then, or more interested than he usually was, anyway, which was, in a way, kind of flattering. Most people got bored with my magic babble pretty fast.

                “I haven’t heard much of ritual magic, or the cleansing you speak of, as Gard doesn’t perform spells such as that. Perhaps you’d be willing to explain?” I shrugged, even though really, I was sort of excited. This was my element, this was what I knew. This was my ball park entirely, and I loved to show newbies the ropes, at least when I knew they could protect themselves. That thought struck me suddenly; John could protect himself against magic. He was vanilla, purely and totally, but he was a force to be reckoned with. Maybe I did have a chance against Mab, with him and the others at my side. My smile was fast and fleeting over my lips, but no less real because of it.

                “Ritual magic is some crazy stuff, and it’s some of the most intricate stuff I know anything about. It takes hours to prepare the most basic spells, but, like I’ve said before, a monkey with a stick could break them down. I always do them in my basement, because of that, in case anyone comes for a visit. See, with the dark ritual stuff, cleansing doesn’t matter. In fact, the more fucked up you currently are, the better they work. You need a boatload of bad intentions and a bucket of foci, but they’re deadly as hell. I’ve already seen the damage they can do. The light ritual stuff, though, you’ve got to be as pure as possible. If I’ve got to do them, I usually do about ten or twenty cycles of meditation, bathing, and fasting. Most people don’t have to do quite that much, but I’m a little more suited for the dark rituals on a day to day basis, if you know what I mean.” He glared.

                “Harry,” he began, obviously preparing to chastise me, but I held up both hands in surrender.

                “I just mean that I’ve killed before. It takes a while to wipe that off, generally, unless you want to be stupid and crazy about it. Honestly, even with all I do, I can’t get rid of the stains from that entirely. I can make them disappear for a while, but then they come back as soon as I go off the regimen for a day or so. See, all those times I hole up in my apartment and refuse to leave for a while, that’s usually what I’m doing. I like to practice sometimes, so I don’t get rusty, and it’s usually a pretty safe way to test new foci.” He smiled.

                “I’d quite like to see you perform such a spell, one day. What is it that you do, exactly? And what is the purpose of them?” I shrugged.

                “I can pull off a passable healing spell, with one of those, but it’s pretty much pointless since it takes me so long to set up. See, what you do is, after you’re cleansed, you arrange your foci to the points of the pentacle, in order importance and what they represent. This is usually where all those wands and things you see come in to play. After that, you get on your knees in the middle of the circle, and start whatever chant you’re planning to use. It takes hours, sometimes, depending on the complexity of what you’re doing. They’re taxing, too, once you send them out. Generally I’m lucky if I don’t pass out on a candle when I finish those. I know, what a sad life I lead! Still, I can dole out some good luck and shit with them. That’s usually what I end up doing.” He smiled.

                “How sweet,” he said, only half-mockingly. I laughed.

                “Yeah, yeah. Don’t go ruining my image now, Johnny.” I twisted around to drop my head on his lap, and he settled his hand in my hair almost subconsciously.

                “You really should keep these clothes,” he said, distracted as all hell, twining a loose strand of my hair around his finger. I sighed, and probably would’ve said something, but a little known fact is that petting me is the exact literal perfect way to complete drain the fight out of me. It’s the one weakness to my permanent aura of badass manliness. Yup. No, no, don’t say anything. I already know you agree. No, seriously, shut up. I need my moments too, you know. “Of course, perhaps I should first force you to realize how gorgeous you are, in either gender. I wonder, what is it that I could do to prove it to you?” I head butted his stomach teasingly.

                “I know well enough what I look like, John, I promise. I swear, I really have seen a mirror before. Just don’t like them.”  

                “Liar.” I huffed and just let him play with my hair. It seemed easier that way, and Stones, it was calming me down. I hadn’t realized how hyped up I’d been, before. I was nearly asleep when Lea came back in, Murphy, who was decked out in armor similar to John’s, but more… graceful, somehow. The lines in hers were smooth instead of sharp, and they actually fit her, unlike the hand-me-downs of Charity’s she’d used before. I leapt up from John’s lap, because no. I just discovered that I like the asshole. I don’t want Murphy to break him before I’m done with him.

                “Heya, Murph,” I said, putting on my best innocent smile that still wasn’t actually innocent, goddamn it. She raised one thin blonde brow like she thought I was an idiot, which, if I’m being honest, is a very likely possibility, because hey, I sort of am an idiot. I can admit it. You know, when no one can hear me.

                “Harry, Marcone. Everyone else is waiting outside; even Sanya came, and Ivy ordered Kincaid to help out. What the hell happened?” I sighed.

                “Mab wants to fight, and John made Lea go get you all. I was going to go by myself, but he’s a bastard. Tell everyone out there that if they want to leave, no one’s forcing them to be here. I’m coming. Let’s go, Johnny.” Lea smiled, serene and beautiful and lazy and deadly.

                “My godson, do try not to die. Your mother would be most unhappy with me, if that happened.” I had to laugh because it was all so surreal, just then, as we walked out and met with a gigantic crowd of armored folk outside of John Marcone’s mansion. They all stayed even when I offered to let them go, and Sanya even smacked me on the shoulder hard enough to bruise.

                “Do not be stupid, Harry. We are your friends, or, at the least, friends of your friends. We will follow you wherever you go. Someone must protect you, yes?” I grinned.

                “Thank you,” I said, and it was sincere. John slapped Sanya’s hand off of me with a vaguely feral flash of teeth. Sanya held up his hands.

                “Peace, peace,” he stated. John nodded once, with finality, and took me by the hand. Lea opened up a way to the Nevernever, and we walked in together, side by side, his hand in mine.

* * *

 

                We came out in an arena of ice, a frozen Thunderdome that glittered with motes of power. Mab sat, legs crossed, on a snowy throne right in the center. He dress flowed like water, a pale pretty purple-blue-green-white thing that was wholly impossible to actually create. He white hair hung in lazy waves, and her cat eyes sparkled with playful, bright light. Maeve was leaning against the chair, too, rainbow bright white hair cut choppily, and tattered clothes that looked like Molly’s hanging raggedly on her form. Oh, hell. Maeve was just as sadistic as Mab, and she was too young to bother controlling it. If she was going to fight too, then we really were fucked. She laughed when she saw me, and wandered up to me. Her fingers caressed my cheek.

                “What a sweet trick,” she said, “I like you like this too.” I jerked away from her hand. She smiled. “Don’t worry, I’m not fighting. I’m just here to see the carnage.” And there would be carnage, I didn’t doubt that. She touched my face again and I snapped my teeth towards her fingers, knowing even as I did it that it wouldn’t serve to do anything more than amuse her or piss her off. I got lucky, and she just thought it was funny. She was giggling when she went back towards the chair, and Mab stood as Lea walked towards the area behind Maeve. The chair disappeared, and Lea and Maeve appeared in the stands. I realized that Mab had done it all, because she was trying to show that this was her domain, that we had no control here. We all just stared and tried to look undaunted. I don’t think it worked, because Mab just kept smiling, dark and deadly and there and yeah, I was scared.

                She wasn’t quite to god-strength, I knew, but she was better than a demigod, and had half of the basic forces of nature at her control. She could freeze any water, including that within someone’s body. She could kill us all in a second, but I knew she wouldn’t. She’d want to play with us. Maybe we could make that into her downfall.

                “Are thee certain that this is what thou wishes to do? I am certain that we could work out another arrangement, Harry.” Her voice was smooth and simple, and obviously she had no opinion of it either way. She’d kill me or she’d make a deal with me. It was all the same to her.

                “You’re the one that requested a fight.”

                “Because fighting is the best way to get thou attention, Harry. Thou must understand the vision thou hast created in mine realm; one of a powerful, yet benevolent wizard who frees the oppressed, who battles the wicked. I do not wish thee dead. I wish for thee to be mine knight.” I grinned.

                “Really? That’s kind of funny, because I wish for thee to shove your job offers up your ass.” She only smiled.

                “Ah well. It seems that this world must now contend with having one less beacon to light it. I wonder how long thou human stronghold will last. I wonder how long the blind fools of mortal kind that thou seems to care so deeply for will manage to wear their obliviousness as armor against the monsters that hide in front of their dead eyes. I wonder, Harry, how long it will take thou shade to torture itself into madness at the sight.” She stepped towards us on graceful, silent feet, the heels of her shoes not clicking like they should’ve been. I stood my ground, chin lifted, hands on the blasting rod in the holster, feet planted solidly even though my chest was heaving. I jangled my wrist and felt a bracelet there, and a glance told me it was my shield bracelet. Lea spared me a quick wink when I glanced at her.

                It was lucky she’d thought about it, though, because if she hadn’t, I would’ve been dead before the battle even got started, because Mab shot a ball of ice at me, and I got the shield up seconds before it would’ve hit me. She grinned, battle wild, and twirled. Ice and force tumbled from her outstretched hands and assaulted my party, and they all started drawing their weapons. Thomas ran out in front of me, deadly curved blade held out in front of him, vampiric strength allowing him to force forward through the force. I thought about all the times he’d let me push him back with my own force spell, because it was my habit to push a touch of force at someone when they were bothering me. Most people didn’t bother to mention it after the first few times, and instead just stumbled back. I saw now that Thomas only did it to make me happy. I smiled at his back, for a second, before I ended up diving to one side, knocking John down with me, to avoid an icicle. It still caught me on the arm, though, and the area bruised darkly right away, although all the charms Lea had covered the clothes with prevented any bleeding. I heard someone scream when I hit the ground and realized it was Thomas.

                He’d been tossed away, had sailed over everyone’s heads and crashed against the back wall. I stumbled back over to my feet and tried to go to him, but John held me back. I heard some of his men scream, and saw their own bullets getting turned back against them. Murphy caught one on her calf, one that came in fast enough to knick her armor there. Mab’s face was twisted with wild, free joy, joy that purely inhuman just like everything else about her. I saw her madness, then, and it scared me.

                “Thomas is not her target, Harry; she will ignore him for now, and he’ll be given a bit of time to gather himself. Do not put yourself at risk. This is unsafe,” he hissed. I laughed.

                “Thanks for the update, Johnny.” I hollered out a fuego and sent the spell flying towards her. She blocked it with a distracted hand. I tried again, and again, and again, and over and over my power was blocked, the bullets were blocked, and no one could get close enough with the blades. Gard was doing something or another in the snow over in some corner, and Hendricks was standing guard over her, blocking whatever stray attacks came fluttering over. An entire battalion of people fell as Mab sent a meteor of ice plummeting down atop them. Sanya attempted to sneak up behind her and got nothing more than bands of ice binding him tightly for his trouble. Mab forced him to fly up, up, up, and froze him to the ceiling. He struggled, of course, but it seemed as though it hurt him. I tried a wind spell, but it got whipped back at me like the bullets, so instead I crashed into a wall. I felt my knees and my neck wrench, and when I stood, I felt blood oozing from the back of my head, and I wasn’t walking properly. Guilt stabbed through me. People were dying for me, getting hurt for me. I didn’t like it. A spear of ice whispered by my head and caught my cheek, sliced open a clean, bloody wound. I wondered if Thomas was okay. I wanted to get everyone out of here and feed them and get them taken care of but I couldn’t, because Mab was going to kill us. The thought filled me with wild, righteous, desperate rage and fear.

                I gathered it around me, tight and swirling and deadly, a thundercloud in my hands and in my head. John took a step back from me. I gathered more, took heat from the air, from the earth, pulled it all around me, and everyone, everything, seemed to freeze. Thomas. She’d hurt Thomas. She’d hurt Sanya. My eyes flicked to John and saw bruises on his cheek, a scrape where the rocky snow had cut his face when I pushed him down away from the icicle. I glanced at Murphy. She was limping badly on one leg, but still she stood and fired her gun with serious blue eyes, stronger than most people could even imagine being in a situation like this. I glanced at all the bodies of all the men and women I didn’t know, people who probably had families and lives and hopes and dreams. I glanced over at Gard and Hendricks and saw that Gard had just cast a spell that made Mab stumble, but that Mab had caused something to hit Hendricks and knock him to the ground, that Gard was trying to do something to help him, but his breathing had gone ragged and shallow. Mab wasn’t allowed to do this. What had happened didn’t involve any of these people. It was between me and her. I’d show her that, now.

                “Pyrofuego!” I screamed it, and blue fire lanced from my hand, thick as my forearm and pluming wider. I was reminded of that first night, the night that had started this, the night I burned the Queen of Winter. I imagined that happening to all of her, imagined Winter melting away, imagined winning this fight and saving all these people. Bright white ribbons of Soulfire threaded into the flame. A cold sweat broke out on my brow. Mab’s focus was suddenly all on me. I imagined the warmth of John’s arms, suddenly, how nice it had felt to be that protected. I didn’t want to lose it. I stepped closer to Mab. I imagined Sanya’s bright grin, his stalwart agnosticism, his solid nobility. I stepped forward. I imagined Thomas, fighting the curse his father forced upon him, fighting not to be a hero, but just to keep those he loved safe, just like me. Closer still. Murphy in her element, standing against the evil and wrongness in the world with all the strength of a million others twice as big as she. Closer, again, I could see the thin set of her lips, now, the flare of her nostrils, the ice in her eyes. John again, the heat of his lips and the genuine love in his eyes, and I recognized it now that I thought about it, remembered how he’d looked when he’d gotten me away from the Corpsetaker, both times he’d saved me from drowning, the day I’d seen him with Amanda. I was tired and cold and stiff and I knew I was using up bits of my soul that probably weren’t even there anymore and I didn’t care because I had to do this. I had to save them. I screamed.

                Mab pressed forward with all her might, all her power, all her body, and I felt it in the air that congealed in my lungs, in the water that froze in my mouth. I dropped to one knee, and I pressed forward harder. The flames licked at the hem of her dress, and her skin had taken on a pinkish glow that looked too human to really be hers. I was crying, I noted, and I physically couldn’t keep this up much longer, but the fire had teased the ends of her hair and brushed her face and I couldn’t stop now, not now, never now. Harder, harder, harder. Her hand found my face, my jaw, and grabbed hard. I fell. The magic stopped. I was done, beaten with a touch. Her face was flecked with burns, her gown tattered and singed, her hair blackened with soot. The snow was cold as death against my back, and she settled over my hips. Her fingers slid from my face to the top of my sternum, right on top of one of the straps to the outfit Lea had gifted me with. Everyone was staring, and I figured it was all a little like a car crash. My chest heaved and my heart hurt. I’d failed. I really had, this time. I stared up at her. If I was going to go out, I’d do it on my terms, and I’d damn sure do it with some snark.

                “Well aren’t you just so tough,” I mumbled, and she pressed her weight down harder, until my hips and lower back ached.

                “I have always assumed it was so.” I twisted and jerked, and attempted more magic, but it didn’t work. It felt almost like I was trying to cast in the middle of a lake or something; there, but just out of reach. “Will thee change thou mind now, about becoming mine knight? If thou dost, I shall spare thou silly mortals.” I laughed.

                “Where did I say your job offers could get shoved again, Mab? Maybe you should remind me. Also, Hell’s Bells, can’t you update your language a little? The thee’s and the thou’s are so last century.” She picked me up by my shoulders and smashed me down again so that my head smacked against the earth, hard enough to hurt, to remind me of what she could do, but not hard enough to kill me, or even knock me out. An expert at torture, at causing pain without unconsciousness. She’d had a lot of practice. Yeah. Most of the stories really do get fairies all wrong.

                “Petulant, belligerent, idiotic, pathetic, weak, _child._ Dost thou know how many mortal wizards of your sort would beg at my feet for the things that I offer thee now? For this mercy that I am attempting to bestow upon thee?” I grinned, sidelong and dizzy.

                “What can I say? I’m a bit of a freak.” And for the first time, there was no bitterness to those words. I remembered what John had told me, and it thrummed in my heart. I remembered. Freak didn’t have to be a bad word. I’d been telling myself that for years; hell, I’d told Murphy that in Lea’s kitchen just a few days before. This, though… this was the first time I believed it. I looked over at him, frozen with his gun raised, cold, and I knew that Mab would probably kill me. I smiled at him. Mab’s fingers dipped beneath the strap, and she snapped it clean and easy. A knife appeared in her hand, thin and graceful, but honed to a deadly point. Just settling the tip of it on my chest caused a bead of blood to well up. She dragged it down to create a thin incision, as if she was planning to cut my heart out. Stones, for all I knew, she was. She made another mark, this one perpendicular to the first, and I had to laugh, because adrenaline was pumping, because the pain was making me ache, and I knew that the best way to forget and to run away was to laugh at my assailant. She was crossing my heart. I wondered if I’d lied to her, recently. Probably. I kept my eyes on John, because hey, he probably wouldn’t be all that bad of a last sight. I noticed finally how badly I ached, all over myself. Mab started to press the knife down. John touched the rose on his chest.

                The magic felt like a tidal wave, when it poured out, and it buffeted Mab off of me. I looked at it as best I could, but it was somewhat blinding, and… was it what I thought it was? Oh, Stars and Stones, it was. A giant goddamned ice tiger. Just kind of… standing around, waiting for John to tell it what to do. I noticed that it had John’s eyes. Yeah, okay, so Lea’s little trick totally just saved my ass, but she’s a huge bitch anyway. He pointed to Mab, and the thing stalked over to her, shedding ice chips and wafting cool mist. The ice and snow I’d melted with my fire solidified under its feet, and even John looked a little shocked at it.

                I had to admit, it was an impressive working, a perfect facsimile of a bright white tiger, beyond the fact that it was about three sizes bigger than it should’ve been, except for the eyes, unnervingly green, unnervingly like John’s. I still questioned whether or not he had some fairy blood in his line somewhere. I really should check that out sometime, but now isn’t the time for my thoughts to be wandering. I climbed drunkenly to my feet just in time to see the tiger settle a massive paw on Mab’s chest. She hissed. The tiger growled, and I felt it shake the arena’s foundations, just like Mouse’s growl could’ve. I wondered why Mouse hadn’t been brought along with us, for a second, before I realized again that John was the one who organized the party, and he probably didn’t know all that much about Mouse’s real power. The tiger twisted and settled its teeth on Mab’s neck. It could’ve killed her, and Mab knew that, but it didn’t. Instead, John strode forward to the two creatures, and I heard him speak.

                “We have won. Admit that it is so, and absolve Harry of his quarrel with you.” What the hell? It hardly sounded like John’s voice. Mab sniffed.

                “It is done. Call off thou foul beast. Or shall I call it my handmaiden’s?”

                “Its origins are of no consequence to you. State that Harry is absolved of all his quarrels with you immediately, three times, and in clear language, or I will have it snap your neck where you lay.” She did so. I could almost feel the weight lift, when it happened, and I stumbled over to John. He wrapped a hand subconsciously around my waist to steady me, and pull me closer to him.

                “How sweet,” she said, as John called the tiger off, “I wonder how thou shall feel when Lea’s working wears off, when his body is returned to its previous state. If thou grows bored with him, mine daughter and I should greatly enjoy playing with him as well.” John gave his business smile.

                “You touch him, in any form, and you die.” She smiled.

                “Such a large promise for a fleeting man. Go, away with all of thee. Thou have won this battle, and thou dead shall receive the burials of heroes.” She waved a hand, and an entrance to the real world opened. First, however, she made it a point to change me back to my correct gender, and to dismiss John’s fancy tiger.

                You cannot imagine how happy I was to have my penis back. You also cannot imagine how not-happy I was to still be in the stupid little outfit. Still, penis. That joy sort of overwhelmed pretty much everything else. I still almost fell over again, though, because I’d gotten used to the counterweights on my chest, and now they were gone again. Maybe I should practice walking around with stuff on my chest every two weeks or so. Just in case. Because obviously Lea can and will find any conceivable excuse to make me a little more feminine than I’m strictly comfortable with. Still, the red haired fairy did spare us all a smile that might’ve been legitimately happy when we left. I wondered what Mab would do to her, for giving John the spell, and decided not to think about it. I carried Thomas, who was only half-conscious, Murphy helped Sanya walk after he was let down, and both John and Gard helped to carry Hendricks through. We came out in some random alleyway in one of the random bad sections of town. I was sure we made quite a sight, just then, but none of us cared, because we were tired and we were hurt and we were aching.

                The people that John had hired, the ones that were left, at least, called the cabs, and even though the cabbies were obviously suspicious, a few extra slips of paper kept them silent and professional. John insisted on riding with Thomas and I to Thomas’ apartment, and on checking my head wound and the cuts on my chest and my legs (I’d ended up dislocating both of my knees, he was pretty sure), even though I told him I was fine. Thomas was unusually quick to join in his fussing, even though his skin was glowing brightly, telling me that he’d been injured pretty badly as well. I figured I was lucky, honestly. I glanced over John and saw that he was favoring his left arm more than usual. He’d cast the spell with his right, I recalled. It had probably caused some backlash, kind of like the kickback from a high powered rifle.

                Thomas seemed unwilling to leave me alone with John in the cab, when we reached his apartment, but I promised him I’d call when I got to wherever I ended up. He finally agreed that John was probably not going to kill me at that particular moment, and we drove off. We ended up at John’s mansion again. The fact that I didn’t even question that tells me that I probably should have gone to a hospital bout that head injury. The fact that I let him literally bridal carry me up to his room (you shouldn’t be walking on those legs right now, Harry. You’ll just make them worse. Here, let me help you, sweetheart) told me that maybe I should’ve checked into the psych ward while I was at it.      

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just one more chapter to go!


	6. Chapter 6

                Johnny Marcone has a physician on call, 24/7. I don’t know why that actually surprised me, but it did. Like, a lot. Yeah, okay, I know, he’s a crazy obsessive mobster who is both crazy and obsessive about the safety of his people, so it’s not that strange that he would have someone around to take care of that kind of thing, but still. Let me keep some of my misconceptions about the asshole, will you? It makes it easier to get pissed at him when he does something annoying.

                The doctor was perfectly professional and clinical, his hand as gentle as possible as he repositioned the joint (it still hurt like hell, and I didn’t notice much of an improvement to the pain afterwards, either), and he was incredibly understanding about my ‘horrible phobia of hospitals’. He even used a fancy portable x-ray machine on my knees, and got a whole one that actually came out properly, before the machine fried. He apologized and said that that never happened. I felt really bad for the guy, but hey, I really can’t help it. He told me that I was really lucky that I hadn’t actually damaged any ligaments or tendons or cartilage or anything, beyond old damage that I’d received from previous injuries, but still suggested that I stay in bed and let the injuries heal some more before I walked around too much. He also cleaned and bandaged my chest and my head, and then insisted on cleaning the marks on John’s cheek and checking his arm, too. I was right, by the way; the damage mirrored damage from weapon kickback, except it was concentrated more in his wrist and elbow than his shoulder.

                The doctor gave us both painkillers and commanded bed rest. I figured I’d last all of two days before I gave up on it and went stir crazy from lying around. I popped one of the pills somewhat unwillingly, but John ignored his, instead opting to toss them into his bedside table. The doctor glared at him as he gathered his things and left, but he stayed quiet. If I had to guess, I’d say he’d had that particular argument enough times to recognize it as a lost cause. I saw him head down towards the direction where I’d seen Gard take Hendricks, and assumed he was going to fix them. John sat down beside me and reached for my hand. His fingers didn’t feel any different from what I remembered, when he’d done things like this when I was a girl, and I think that might’ve been the weirdest part, finally seeing first hand that no matter how different I’d felt, how different I’d looked, there were still pieces of me that hadn’t changed at all.

                He held my hand like that for at least five minutes, fingers overlapping, rough with calluses, almost fever hot against my skin. It was weirdly comforting, the feeling of it, the endless way his thumb created wide spirals on the place where my thumb connected with the rest of my hand. My eyes closed, the painkillers fuzzing my thoughts and making me sluggish. His hand slid up some, and yes, it was still big enough to wrap around my bicep completely, to overlap, because fuck Lea. He started to trace patterns that I thought were nonsense, at first, before I realized that there was a pattern to it, like letters, and… that fucker was tracing his name. I glared up at him and he just laughed, smiling kindly. He’d taken the ridiculous armor off, shortly before the physician arrived, and was just in a button down with the top buttons undone and a pair of older jeans. He looked a little undone, like that, but I sort of liked it. I realized I hadn’t changed clothes yet, and felt belatedly embarrassed that the physician (and all of John’s guys, who would recognize the outfit as one the female me was wearing, and all those guys he’d called to help out who’d also seen me go from female to male and oh fuck, fuck, fuck, this was going to be tough to explain) had seen me like that. Still, the clothes weren’t necessarily uncomfortable, so whatever, I guess. The ‘e’ at the end was completed with a flourish, like the one I knew he used when he actually signed his name. My skin tingled, there, and I wondered for a second if John was envisioning how the letters would really look if he could actually put them on my arm. Probably, the possessive bastard.

                “Asshole,” I mumbled.

                “You love it,” he replied. I smirked lazily.

                “Prove it. Betcha can’t.” And maybe one day I’ll know better than to challenge John goddamned Marcone. Probably not. It was way too much fun to see him get that particular look on his face, the one that was a tight mixture of excitement and annoyance and pure, unfiltered joy. He didn’t get challenged all that often, didn’t get talked to the way I talked to him. I’d never considered that maybe he liked having someone like me around, someone that didn’t bend to him just because he was him. Hell, I’d never thought he liked anything about me. He was just full of surprises, I guessed, and snorted softly. He really was such a bastard. Still. Maybe he was right, a little, and maybe I did sort of enjoy it, kind of. His hand moved to span my stomach, and I wondered… “John, are you fucking seeing if this looks like it did when I was a girl?” He looked like a child with his hand caught in the cookie jar, for a second, before he hid it behind a thick layer of cocky motherfucker.

                “Perhaps I was a bit curious. Why? I’d have thought you’d be a bit offended by such a thought, especially since there’s hardly no difference at all.” The hand swept up towards my newly re-flattened chest.

                “You know, I think that part right there that you’re groping is a pretty major difference. I actually don’t even know what you’re groping, considering there’s nothing there to grope. Really, you should’ve taken the chance before.” He smiled.

                “While you admittedly were quite lovely that way, I’m afraid that I prefer you like this, as it is your natural state. I’d rather simply do this,” he said, and his voice dropped an octave near the end, and he removed the shirt thing with a few quick pulls and tugs of fabric, which I found pretty impressive, since even I hadn’t known how it was attached to me. When it was gone, his hand settled back where it was, except this time it went straight for my nipples. I lurched back, having not expected that or the reaction I’d have to it, and my knees screamed their protest. John pressed his hand down hard to keep me where I lay, but not really hard enough to actually hurt me. I was sure I looked a little like a wild animal, then, skittish and afraid. It had been different, before, when I thought it was just the new body making him act like that, but now I was being forced to face that it was me. It was… he was attracted to _me._ He wanted to do this with _me._ I took a deep breath and did my best to relax, and I got a kind smile in return, a bright, laughing gaze.

                “John,” I muttered, wide-eyed, and he went back to what he’d been doing, except now he twisted his fingers. I gasped, and he curled around to perch over me, being careful to support all of his weight himself. I swallowed convulsively. “Christ. And people say I’m the wizard.” I’d started to like his laugh more and more the more I heard it. I thought it was even nicer than Thomas’ which was pretty surprising, considering Thomas’ particular genealogy. He bent down to lick up my neck, fingers keeping up their infernal motion, constant, sharp bursts of pleasure that simply weren’t enough. I pressed my chest up into his hand.

                “You know, I wish you could’ve kept the collar part of that shirt. It was quite darling on you,” he mumbled, before he nipped my jaw. I snickered breathlessly, and he moved to press tantalizing kisses to my lips, there for a second, then gone, then there again. His free hand moved to hold my jaw, to squeeze and have me open my mouth to him. His kisses grew deep and openmouthed, as if he was trying to drink me in, lick my spirit up from the back of my throat. I sighed, and felt myself fall limp and pliant. His eyes closed, and I found I missed them, the verdant green that I’d never been able to ignore. I like to use the word ‘bland’ when I see a body of a feature I appreciate, because it gets me off the hook for thinking things I probably shouldn’t, but I’d never been able to do that when it came to his eyes. His face, yeah, I could do it there, and with his body, but never those damned eyes. There was just something about them, something beautiful and unique that I’d never see again, and I knew it. He pulled his mouth from mine, his face a little flushed, and those eyes opened again, now shadowed by a haze of lust.

                “You gonna do something or just stare at me? You still haven’t proven anything, you know.” His smile was placid and cool.

                “Harry, I promise that there is no rush. I’ll have you screaming quickly enough.” I chortled.

                “Confident, aren’t you?”

                “With a very good reason to be, I assure you.” Stars and Stones, was this what sex with normal people was like, or were he and I just weird? Please, do tell me, because I’ve either been doing it wrong my whole life, or John was doing something funny. Maybe both, because I couldn’t remember being this sensitive since that very first fumbling time, but even then I hadn’t talked to my partner like this, like we weren’t doing anything more than sitting around playing board games.

                “Cocky bastard.”

                “And yet you’re still here, darling.” He licked down my neck again, to my chest, and took the nipple he’d been teasing into his mouth. I choked. He nipped. I arched. He held me down. Fucking asshole, bastard, dick. Not a gentleman at all. A gentleman would stop fucking teasing me and remove the obscenely tight shorts so that my poor dick could breathe. I whined in order to get these sentiments across, but he didn’t seem to get it, because instead he just started using his hand to play with the nipple not in his mouth. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and let my head fall backwards. At least we were in a bedroom, I guessed. That was something. My hands moved up to pull at his hair, his head, so I could get him to quit with the incessant taunting. I was not that delicate; I didn’t need to get worked up to whatever he wanted to do. I just wanted to do it, whatever it was.

                He moved to slip a knee between my legs and press it forward a little, still being careful not to put his weight on me, and yeah, I guess that was sort of considerate and gentlemanly of him, but I didn’t care, because I really wanted to get off. I ground up against the leg as best I could, but I couldn’t get any good leverage in my position. He seemed to know that, because I felt him smirk against my chest, and then he raised his head. Never let it be said that I don’t take opportunities when they arise.

                “Come on, John, get on with it. Do something else instead of just… that. Teasing me.” He smirked.

                “Harry, come now, I’m not teasing. Don’t be impatient, sweetheart. You act as if foreplay is foreign to you.” I growled.

                “Foreplay isn’t sitting up there nibbling on me for god knows how long,” I snarled, and pressed up against his leg again.

                “Be still, you’ll hurt yourself. Let me handle all of this.” He bent back down and bit at my chest, sucking tiny marks as he squirmed down my body. I was admittedly upset that I lost the leg I’d been getting at least minor friction from. When he got down to the foot of the bed, he placed one of my legs in his lap softly, so softly that I hardly realized the limb had been moved at all, and then started to unstrap the boot on my foot with a strange reverence. He placed it on the floor, probably near wherever the top had gone, then he switched to my other foot. That boot went the same place as the other, and then my shorts/skirt combo weird thing was slid off, along with the holster and the stockings, until I lay there, bare-assed, for his scrutiny. I had the irrational urge to cross my legs and curl onto my side, hide myself from his eyes, eyes that seemed to take all of me in at one, eyes that seemed to be focused so fiercely that not even a single scar would remain hidden.

                “What are you doing?” I asked him, and my voice sounded too high, too quiet. I didn’t like it. He ran a hand down my thigh, proprietary yet fleeting.

                “I’m simply looking at you, Harry. I would have thought you’d understand my shock. I never thought I’d have you like this, you know, under me and pleased to be there. It’s… I’d like to enjoy it. Stop looking as if I’ll throw you from my bed, Harry; you’re gorgeous. Beautiful, beautiful, everything I could ever want.” He wrapped a hand around my dick, and jerked a couple of times, but then he let go and spread my legs out wide. I wanted to snap them shut again, but his hands, though not painful, were firm and unyielding against my thighs. He seemed considering, for a second. “Would putting your legs over my shoulders hurt you, Harry? I can’t quite reach like this.” Huh? Wasn’t he planning on sucking me off or something? He could reach just fine. I stared. What, had I been doing blowjobs wrong all this time too?

                “Uh. I don’t… think so.” He nodded, and picked them up, slowly, carefully, to place them where he wanted, then slid a pillow under my hips so my lower half was raised up higher. Then he licked my ass. I don’t know any other way to describe it. I tried to reel away, but he held my hips tightly.

                “Don’t. Let me try, please. If you don’t like it, I’ll stop, but give it a chance, first.” I didn’t like doing that, giving things that I thought were weird chances. I liked vanilla sex. It was perfectly pleasurable for everyone involved, and I didn’t see why I needed to change it up. Still. I had a feeling, just then, that if I asked John for something strange, something he thought of like I was thinking of this whatever this was, he’d try it for me. And besides, maybe I did love the bastard.

                He was a criminal, and he was dangerous, and he was a killer, and he was damaged, and maybe he was even a little bit evil, but he was never merciless. He thought of what he did like a business, like something that had to be done, and maybe it did. Maybe this world really wouldn’t be able to function without guys like him. Maybe the underworld did need someone on top of the clusterfuck to keep it from getting too bad. I didn’t like to think of that, I never had, but I also don’t like to think about the monsters in everyone’s closets and under their beds, but that doesn’t mean that they aren’t real, aren’t there, either. John was not cruel. John was not evil. I mean, yeah, he wasn’t good either, not by any stretch of the imagination, I didn’t know how long I’d be able to turn a blind eye to some of the things he does but… I do. I do love him. He’s… I don’t quite know what to call him, how to explain this, but it’s true. Maybe it’s because he’s so damned determined, because he’s so honestly desperate to just keep me safe. I… I like having people I can trust around, people who won’t judge me. I don’t think John would ever judge me, anything about me, anything I’ve done. I closed my eyes, and I nodded. He seemed surprised, I could tell by his gasp.

                “Well? Are you going to, or aren’t you?” I finally asked, and then there was something hot and wet at the entrance to my body, and it slid inside. It was the most foreign sensation I’ve ever felt, and it wasn’t good, but it wasn’t exactly bad either. The slick muscle squirmed deeper into me, a solid, wet pressure, and really, this had to hurt John’s jaw or something and _oh._ What the hell was that? I might have moaned obscenely loud, but no one can testify to that but John, and he’s a liar anyway, so it doesn’t count. He did that thing again, touched whatever part of me that made sparks shoot off behind my eyes, and instead of trying to get away, like I had earlier, my hips twitched down towards his mouth. This feeling was still a little squeamish, to tell the truth, but it now felt nice, unimaginably nice, and I like it when things feel good, because it doesn’t happen all that often. I think maybe I’ll take pleasure from wherever I can get it, thanks. He worked a little closer, worked his tongue a little deeper, and then grabbed my cock just as his tongue licked at that one particular place again, and my body spasmed. I arched up, taut as a bowstring and curved like a bow, and I came violently. I should probably mention that this doesn’t usually happen, to save at least a little face, but you probably don’t believe me anyway, so I don’t know why I’m bothering. John’s tongue slid out of me, and I gasped, embarrassingly feeling my body attempt to hold him where he was. He placed my legs down easily, and sat up. He did seem to be stretching his jaw some, though.

                “Well. I’ll assume you enjoyed that more than you thought you would?” I glared.

                “Shut _up._ ” He snickered.

                “Have I got the option to nut up as well?” Oh hell no. John Marcone did not just make a Zombieland joke at me while we’re fucking. That’s just… that’s Twilight Zone crazy right there. I stared. He sighed and told me, “Yes, Harry, movies do indeed exist, and I am, in fact, aware of them.” Oh. Well. That probably shouldn’t have been hot, but um… I like movies. Zombieland is also one of my favorites, because it kind of makes fun of things that are real and dangerous and scary, and when I have references like that, it’s a lot easier for me to laugh in the face of all the demons that come at me. I swallowed, and my head tilted back again. John laughed.

                “Shut up and do… what the hell were you planning on doing again?” He settled his teeth on my neck, but it didn’t feel like a threat so much as a promise, a soft weight on the fragile skin. I got the feeling that he was trying to say he wouldn’t hurt me. He could, and I knew that much. He had me vulnerable, right now, and I was weak, with a substance that could kill me a hundred times over splattered all over my stomach. If he wanted me dead, he could make it happen right now. I hadn’t even really considered that, before now, because despite myself, I’d grown to trust him. His fingers traced my over-sensitive dick softly, and I hissed. “John, fuck, I’m not sixteen anymore. Give me a minute.” He smirked against my neck, and the teeth dipped in a little before he pulled away.

                “Where’s that wizardly stamina I’ve always heard so much about? I haven’t even gotten off once yet,” he said, lidded eyes gazing down at me with predator ease. He licked his lips. I might’ve gulped, but who knows, really. He pressed a sweet kiss to my lips. “Still, worry not. We’ve plenty of time.” My cock twitched suddenly, new interest sparking within me, and okay, yeah, maybe I was sixteen again for a little while. I think maybe that particular part of me should consider how big it’s making John’s ego before it keeps this nonsense up. Maybe if it did, it’d pay attention to my upstairs brain and stop doing that. John’s hands, too big (why hadn’t I ever noticed that before I was a girl, huh?), wrapped around the organ and squeezed once, before he undid his own pants and slipped himself out. I coughed. Not because I was impressed or anything, just because I had something caught in my throat. The hand wrapped around us both and started to twist and jerk, and I felt John’s hips stutter into his own grasp as I felt myself become interested in the proceedings again.

                I jerked up into his grip as he jerked down, and something happened that made us both gasp and groan. We did it again, and again, and again, and Hell’s Bells, John was shaking. His teeth were clenched tight, his jaw solid and hard, and I couldn’t help but feel like his toes were curling in those fancy ass shoes of his. I reached behind him to clutch at his back, and finally he put some of his weight down on me as he dropped his grasp on us and settled his chest on mine. I could feel his heart thundering away inside his chest.

                “Huh. Guess I really am bad for your blood pressure,” I mumbled into the hollow of his throat. He chuckled and pushed himself back up, slid back down between my legs, his cock bobbing up towards his stomach, dampening his jacket a little. His hands trailed matching paths down my sides (I giggled. Shut up, I’m ticklish), over the jut of my hips, across the soft, sensitive place where my groin joined with my hips and thighs, a place that had hardly ever been touched before. His gaze was hungry, and that was weird. People don’t just look at me like that. I had a feeling that this relationship would be a pretty big learning experience for the both of us.

                “Among other things,” he said. “Wet these for me, would you?” he asked, stretching up to shove his fingers into my mouth. I squawked as indignantly as was possible, but he only rolled his eyes at me and wiggled them. I threatened to bite them, and he snorted. “It’s not that horrible, Harry. Hurry now, I’m afraid I might not have as much patience as I’d like.” Wow. John admitting impatience. I’d probably just witnessed a first for mankind. I snorted and started to lick the fingers, stabbing my tongue at the ‘V’ between them, sucking at the pad of one, and John just stared. I’d managed to slick them up pretty well when he wrenched them from between my lips, face bright and twisted with sudden, wild lust. His fingers found the entrance to my body and one slipped inside, the way still a little loosened from whatever it was he’d done with his tongue earlier, and maybe I should talk to Bob about all of this, find out what all this stuff is and what it means and other ways it can happen, because I don’t want to feel lost like this again. He brushed against the spot he’d found with his tongue gently, with a sort of beckoning gesture, and I wasn’t sure whether I should jerk against it or away.

                It was pure sensation, nothing but feeling, and I suddenly had a very intimate understanding of why this would be such good fuel for magic. John smiled, and after he noticed my reaction, he steadfastly avoided that place, even when he slipped the second finger in and scissored them wide. The angle had to be hell on his wrist, yet he kept at it determinedly, as if this was all he was going to get, as if this was the most important thing he’d ever done. My thighs quivered, and I jolted back against the fingers, my body apparently making the decision about what I wanted for me. My tongue felt thick in my mouth, my body burning as if I were caught up in a fever. My jaw gaped open and I panted, because that seemed like the only way I could get air just then. The fingers both pressed, solid, against that spot, and I keened again, more desperate than I’d ever admit to. The third finger entered while I was unaware, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. I’d never imagined that part of me being stretched like that, never done it, never really considered it, and it was a deep, burning ache. John stilled his hand, and used his free one to tease my erection. A shuddering sigh fell from my lips.

                “God, John,” I mumbled. His smile was young and genuine, and it made him lose at least ten years.

                “Now, now, I don’t think that highly of myself. You’ll give me a complex, sweetheart.” As if he didn’t have one already. I huffed out a laugh, and wiggled my hips to tell him it was okay to start moving again. He did so, the fingers a slow, constant motion, good motion, motion I didn’t understand but enjoyed all the same, and then he hooked them. If my legs were open to him before, they were sprawled out and putting on a welcoming extravaganza for him now. I moaned and whined and shuddered into him, but then he stopped, just literally stopped. I wanted to scream.

                “Fucking… fuck… John, why?”

                “Are you stretched enough?” Oh. Uh…

                “How the hell should I know? It’s not like I’ve done this before. You’re obviously the expert here,” I grumbled. He snorted and twisted the fingers once, sharply, enough to make me spasm and twitch.

                “Ah, yes. Perfectly fine.” The fingers slid out, and he began to move me carefully onto his lap, keeping my legs stretched out to the side of him. His slacks scraped against the backs of my thighs and my ass, and I felt the blunt pressure of him prodding at me. I don’t know why, but just then, I _wanted._ I wanted a lot. I wanted him. I reached behind me and took him in my hand, positioned him, and then dropped myself down. He hissed, and his hands grabbed at my hips, clenching hard enough to bruise me spectacularly. My head dropped against his shoulder, and I panted into his neck. My legs shook and my eyes closed and I felt so full it was insane. Maybe I had been doing sex wrong all this time. I say again, though; don’t tell John that. Then John bounced me. He picked me up, and pulled me back down onto him, hard and strong and oh, god, that was good. My fists clenched in his shirt.

                “ _Again,_ ” I whined, and he obliged me.

                “Harry, Harry, you don’t even understand, do you? How badly I’ve wanted to see you like this, moaning for me, begging for me… I want you like this always, I want you a million other ways, and I cannot even begin to describe it all.” I wanted him to try. I didn’t know why, but the whispered words were like ambrosia, pouring from his lips like honey and sticking sweetly to my ears.

                “Tell me,” I mumbled, and he bounced me again. He hissed, and suddenly his mouth was right by my ear, the words hot and damp.

                “I want you fighting. I want you begging. I want you sweet. I want you wild. I want to see you so fucking pissed you can’t stand it anymore, I want to see you happy. All of you. I want all of you, and I want it to be only mine, but you can’t do that, Harry, I already know. If I have you, I have to share you, and that will make me insane. I’ll want to lock you away, Harry, I’ll want to hide you, but I won’t, I never will. I care too much for you, know you’re too important. Still. I want to face down all your enemies and rip them to pieces for you. I want to never go into a fight without you at my side. I want to hear you say please for once in your damned life, I want you to respect me.” I laughed and ground myself down into his hips, my cock rubbing up against his shirt now, a little higher than where his had been before. I tried to clench, then just to see what would happen, and John’s fists clenched and I nearly wrenched a scream out of him. I did it again. He lunged forward and bit my neck harshly, teeth digging in like pointed razor blades. I yelled out, my back arching again, my chest pressing hard into his. He jerked himself away and licked his lips, and I saw something in his eyes, something animal and primal and there was the tiger peeking out again, I knew. I heaved a ragged breath and wondered…

                “Please,” I told him, and I said it in my best voice, as sincere as I could have. His hips stuttered. “Please, Mr. Marcone. Please, John, please.” His eyes closed and he groaned, and one of his shuddering hands removed itself from my hips and grabbed my dick. Was he… goddamn it, he was trying to make me come first, wasn’t he. Well, he could keep trying. I was the one with the power here, and when I looked into his face, I knew that he knew that too. Still, it’d probably be an even match anyway. I wasn’t very good at sensual. I would damn well try, though. I squeezed around him again and wiggled, which probably wasn’t all that great looking, but he seemed to like it none the less. He started teasing my chest desperately, attempting to push me over, but I wasn’t having it. “Johnny, Johnny, Johnny, come on, I love you! You can do better than this,” I whined with one more wriggle. He tensed up and wrapped his arms around my waist, pulled me as close to him as he possibly could, and came hard, almost too hot, and then he shuddered and went somewhat boneless as he softened and slipped out of me. I grinned.

                “Damn it, Harry,” he grumbled, but it didn’t sound nearly as threatening as it could have, if his voice hadn’t been sex rough and tired. I snickered as I wrapped my hand around myself, preparing to finish myself as best I could, but he slapped my hand away. “I can still do that much, Harry.” I rolled my eyes and allowed it.

                His touch was far gentler than my own, and he handled me less roughly than I usually did myself. I guessed it had something to do with the fact that I didn’t really like doing stuff like this on my own, and hard and rough got me off faster, so I could get it over with. This, though, this light, twisting, barely there friction, then another hand teasing my balls, it was good too. As a matter of fact, I could even say that I liked it.

                “Ungh,” I stated, very intelligently. He snorted.

                “I just fucked you, and it’s a handjob that gets a sound like that out of you?” I shrugged. Maybe his stupidly over scaled hands were good for something. “Still, Harry, you love me? Really? I think perhaps those were the most wonderful words I’ve ever heard.” He squeezed once, apparently a reward for me doing something he liked. “And you sounded just as nice saying please as I always imagined.” Perverted son of a bitch. Still, he could keep being a perverted son of a bitch if his hands always felt that nice. Another squeeze, and a twist, and oh, well, would you look at that, I was finished. I drooped, just as boneless as him, and his feet actually made real life noise on the floor when he went to the bathroom to get something to clean up with. He cleaned me with careful, gentle touches, then got himself, and then he was curled around me.

                “Asshole. Maybe I do love it, though. And you. But you’re still an asshole.” He chuckled against my neck, and then licked the bite he’d created, a new mark that stung a little, yet somehow felt much better than the remainder of my pantheon of injuries. I sighed and relaxed further.

                “I love you as well, sweetheart, even if you are the most stubborn, strong-willed, suicidal, smart-assed idiot I’ve ever had the pleasure of arguing with.” Yeah. Sounded like me. I huffed. Didn’t mean I had to like it.

* * *

 

                Time passed. Lea tried to marry us (three times, each with a more convoluted dress and ceremony than the last. I swear, one of those dresses was corseted all the way down the back, with sleeves that would drag the ground when I walked and a train a million miles long and a veil with lace so thin I’d break it if I sneezed on it. And she tried to use a troll to pick us both up and force us onto an altar. John seemed to not be fighting very hard, though, I recall), Murphy and Thomas teamed up in order to create a plan to kill Marcone, one that involved, I kid you not, a bag of cursed marshmallows and pitting Kincaid and Ebenezer together in a duel to the death on his front lawn. Also, Hendricks got a little sick from a random bag of marshmallows, as well as a little cut up, because he just happened to pass out on the lawn where two super powerful beings just happened to be trying to kill each other. No one knows what was wrong with those marshmallows, or why said super powerful beings chose John’s lawn. Please don’t tell Gard otherwise. Valkyries are scary. And dangerous. And possibly totally insane. I haven’t gotten total confirmation on that one, yet. Oh, and Sanya sends us roses and vodka every other month or so, asking if we’ve finally given up and let the psycho fairy bitch marry us yet. John has been sending increasingly exasperated replies that may or may not talk about a certain wizard who doth protest too much. So I look through his desk sometimes. Sue me. Ahem.

                John also insists on taking me out on dates every weekend I’m not saving the world one slimy ball of slimy goo at a time, usually to somewhere overly fancy that reeks of class, but every now and then he just takes me to a drive in and buys me popcorn and candy bars and soda, or for a picnic in the park with Mouse. Once he even took me to the Legoland theme park, which he’d had Gard cast a temporary charm over to make it all wizard proof. He might’ve rented said museum for the entire day, possibly through illegal and intimidating means, but hey. I got to ride all the rides and play the games and look at Legos, and I didn’t have to wait in lines or anything, so I guess I appreciate it anyway.

                Bob yelled at me the next time I saw him with some strange mixture of worry over my safety after having majorly pissed off the Winter Queen and my having spent way too much time in Fairy for any sane mortal, and annoyance that I’d gone and fucked a mobster and been a woman (he spent an uncomfortable amount of time making sure that I had not been a woman whilst the fucking thing was happening) without letting him see what was going on, and possibly make the same awful jokes he once made at Molly about me. John spent over an hour poking Bob and asking questions about me, some of which involved kinks. Bob said something about lab sex and bondage and I tuned him out, especially after John sounded fucking interested. I think they’re exchanging friendship bracelets over wine and porn next week, though.

                Thomas also got to yell at me because I forgot to call him. Apparently he’d been considering calling the FBI, before he decided that they were all probably in John’s pocket anyway, so it wouldn’t make a difference. John politely informed him that he only had three FBI agents in his pocket, it’s just that they led the organized crime taskforce and he was a very good anonymous source on other gangs. Never have I sighed so much as in my relationship with Gentleman John Marcone.

                Some of my stuff got moved to John’s place, and I stay there part time, now, unless I’m on a case, at which point I try to distance myself from him to keep him safer, even though that just pisses him off. Still, I moved Mouse and Mister over there, so you can probably guess where I am more often than not. I also found out that Mouse hadn’t been invited to the party at Mab’s because Thomas had insisted he not get brought along even though a few people suggested the animal, because he knew how much I cared about the mutt, knew it’d be a dangerous fight, knew I’d be devastated if the dog got hurt. I felt a warm surge of brotherly affection well up in me at that, and I hugged him tightly the next time I saw him, Mouse right beside me, his tail wagging happily and struggling valiantly to break everything in its vicinity. John seemed upset that he hadn’t thought of protecting my dog for me first. I kissed his cheek to make him feel better, and Thomas punched him in the stomach in a way he obviously thought was surreptitious. John elbowed him in the side. Hello everyone, meet Harry Dresden’s loved ones. They call him insane, but really they are the batshit ones, and Harry displays amazing grace and patience and love when dealing with them. Please applaud him for this gracious act of kindness and purity now.

                Anyway, I guess what I’m trying to say is that the world did not implode once John and I got together. The universe did not see fit to end it all. The sun didn’t explode. No random earthquake came to shake us off into space. Everything just went on its merry way, as if nothing had changed, but a lot did change. I’ve got another permanent ally, now, one who’ll be there whether I want him to be or not. I’ve got another person I’m proud to call my friend. I’ve got someone who loves me, someone I can love. I’ve got an ear to scream to and a shoulder to cry on, if I need it. I’ve got John Marcone, and all his idiosyncrasies and psychoses and obsessiveness and possessiveness and wildness and flaws and beauty and strength and power and care and love. The rest of the world keeps spinning. My personal one got a little crazier than before, somehow. I can’t say I’d have it any other way. Still, it’s kind of hard to believe I had to piss off the Fairy Queen of Winter and get turned into a girl for this to happen. Maybe I should consider fixing my life at some point. Or visiting that psychiatrist I talked about before. Whatever. John’s wanting to hit another drive in tonight, and he’s looking at me with that ‘I will get into your pants and you will like it’ look, so I should probably go deal with that. Cue 80’s porno music. Yowza. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here it is! This is the end. I hope you like it, ghostdreaming!


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